


Keeping Up With The Deetzes

by thatoneavengingarcher



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King, Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Because what's new, Biphobia, Cancer, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Demon!Shane, Dysfunctional Family, Dyslexia, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, I can't promise you'll understand it tho, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, New Year's Eve, Pregnancy, Revenge, Shane and Ryan are gonna be crackhead uncles to Lydia wait and see, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, The Ghoul Boys (Buzzfeed Unsolved), The Handbook For the Recently Deceased, adding the bfu tag for the clout, and so that I get some new fans, anger issues, bi!Adam, bi!Stella, cursing, gay!Lydia, if you're only here for the boys (and i don't blame you) go to chapters 22 23 and 26, my bfu obsession sparked up again so guess what I'm adding to KUWTD??, no beetleb@bes, not in ten million years, pan!Beej, potential smut, seasonal depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 45,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneavengingarcher/pseuds/thatoneavengingarcher
Summary: The not-so-boring everyday life of a strange and unusual family consisting of a caring dad, a life coach mom, a recently deceased couple, and a strange and unusual teen.Hey guys....I've been really stressed out with life right now and family circumstances, so I don't think I will post tonight or maybe even this week. Things have been stressing me out and unfortunately I have to focus on those things. :(  I've also been stuck in a rut with KUWTD and while normally I would be able to get out of it easily, my stressors are making everything harder. I'm going to try to write a little bit each night this week instead of in one long session like I usually do.  I PROMISE I will not let this fic die, I just need to take a break and deal with my personal struggles. :(
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Delia Deetz, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice/Delia Deetz, Charles Deetz & Barbara Maitland, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz, Delia Deetz & Adam Maitland, Delia Deetz & Barbara Maitland, Lydia Deetz & Barbara Maitland, Lydia Deetz/Stella Butterfield (OC), Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej
Comments: 129
Kudos: 220





	1. The Jock and Her Nerd (The High School Maitlands)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so, this is my first fic!! Very excited!! A few things: 
> 
> This story is gonna get dark. Eventually. So be warned. I'll warn y'all a chapter before I introduce something upsetting. (Tags and ratings will change when they need to.) 
> 
> Barbara is our main character, but that may change. She may seem a little OOC - for now. ;)
> 
> The chapters will eventually be longer. This will probably be the shortest one. My update schedule is Tuesday nights. I may churn out chapters a little faster in the beginning to get y'all up to speed but the regular schedule is Tuesday nights, 10 pm CST. 
> 
> If you don't understand everything quite yet, don't worry. Everything will be revealed in all due time.
> 
> That's all for now! 
> 
> AJ

Adam’s miniature town shook as the front door downstairs slammed closed. The impact sent the entire model of Winter River in disarray. Carefully placing their mini home back on the hill, shifting it to its perfect perch overlooking the town, Adam looked up to Barbara, saying, “Lydia must’ve had a bad day,” He put a fallen graveyard tree back in its hole, thinking over what could have made her so mad. 

Barbara tapped her foot on the wooden floor. “Yeah, she probably did. Bless her and that treacherous world of high school,” Barbara replied. She sat on the old rocking chair, hands toying with the wooden knob of Adam’s antique crib. She opened her mouth to speak, saying, “Adam, were our high school years that bad?” 

“Babs, it was the early 2000’s. Everything was bad,” Adam said with a laugh. He was still focused on fixing the miniature town. “We all wore trucker hats and tube tops and looked like walking disasters.” 

“No, I mean like, teasing wise. Bullying, I guess. Was there a lot of that then?” Barbara asked. 

“Maybe not for you,” Adam said, “but I was DnD Club President. Or as James Bucksly called it, ‘Free Swirly of the Week’ Club President. You can only imagine all of that ‘bullying’ crap I endured.” 

“Oh, Adam-”

“Not like you’d get it, Miss Golden Girl of the town.” Adam rolled his eyes and continued to glue a house down to the fake grass. 

Barbara’s cheeks flushed and she said, “Don’t start that crap with me, Adam Christian Maitland. You know how catty and unfair teenage girls can be! And you know damn well that I endured unfair teasing too.” 

The sound of stomping feet on the attic steps shut the ghostly couple up. They stopped what they were doing to stare at the door in worry and in anticipation. Then the door hit the wall with a bang, and Lydia emerged from the entry. 

Lydia’s face was as red as cherry and she huffed, trying to catch her breath after the long winded, angry stomping she did through the house. She threw her backpack on the wooden floor, and promptly collapsed on the loveseat. Barbara rushed over to her and asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“I have to do a sport,” Lydia said, muffled under the pillow she had buried her face in. 

“Huh?” Adam asked. 

She picked her head out of the pillow, face drawn in despair. “I have to do a sport.” 

“Like a physical sport? Like basketball? Or track? Or volleyball?” Barbara tried to mask her excitement, knowing that Lydia was not as near excited as she was. 

“Yes,” Lydia said. “I hate it! I hate it so much!” She pounded her fist into the frilly old pillows that were there from when Barbara’s grandparents lived in the house in the forties. 

“Gosh, Lyds, that sucks,” Adam said. “Why’d you got to do a sport anyway?”

“If I don’t do a sport, then I have to take P.E. with Mr. Rayne and EVERYONE knows that man has a foot fetish.” Lydia audibly gagged just saying it. She couldn’t imagine actually being in his class. 

“Well what kind of sports do you like?” Barbara asked. “There’s basketball, and volleyball, and track, and dance team, and-”

“How ‘bout none of them?” Lydia replied. “I wish I could do marching band - that class is so easy it’s a joke - but it’s a class, and my schedule is already full, so that’s a no.” 

“That’s what I did in high school, you know,” Adam said, walking back to his model, “marching band. I was second clarinet. Not very good at it, but I got my gym credit so that was all that mattered.”

“Really? What were you guys like in high school?” Lydia perked up a bit. She sat up straighter, and looked intently at Barbara and Adam, waiting for their responses. 

“Me?” Adam said, a little bit surprised. No one had ever asked about his high school career, and frankly, he didn’t really care to think about it. He didn’t know a single person that had actually enjoyed high school; even Barbara didn’t like divulging into that time of her life. Adam pondered for a moment, and as he finished adjusting the mini Maitland family’s mausoleum, he said, “Well, Lyds, you’re talking to the one and only Winter River High DnD Club President, 2001 to 2004. I was the best dungeon master that school’s ever had, and none have topped me since.” 

“WR High had a DnD Club?” Lydia asked. 

Barbara giggled. “Well, you wouldn’t know that,” she said, lightly punching Adam in the arm as he worked on the model. “It disbanded after we left!” She smiled as Adam rolled his eyes. 

“Were you a part of DnD Club too, Barbara?” Lydia asked as she grabbed her laptop from her black bookbag, powering it up. The laptop was adorned in stickers, ranging from a smiling ghost to a sticker that said “ok boomer.” It made a happy chirping sound as it finished starting up, like a bird happy to see its owner. 

“Gosh, no,” Barbara said. Then she saw Adam look up from his model, face rife with offense, and she quickly added, “It’s not like I didn’t like DnD, it’s just not my cup of tea, Adam. You know that.” 

“It’s not like you would’ve had time for it anyway, Babs,” Adam said. “You were always busy with volleyball, or swimming, or soccer, or concert band, or the musical, or National Honor Society and every activity under the goddamn sun.” He smirked and turned back to his work. 

“Adam Christian Maitland, don’t you even!” Barbara said, putting an edge in voice so as to pretend to be mad. She liked putting Adam in his place when he started to get a little smart with her. “One more tart and sassy remark on my high school years and I’ll feed you to the sandworms.” She wedged herself between Adam and the table the model was on, arching her back over the town and the creaky old wooden table, and pointed a finger into his chest, adding, “And just so you know, I never did soccer.” 

Adam gazed lovingly at her, arms around her hips, and said, “Of course, hon, I knew that.” He pulled Barbara closer in for a hug, letting it linger for a second. Then he promptly whispered in her ear, “You were too damn busy to do it!” 

Barbara propelled him into their bed behind them as she laughed so hard, her sides hurt. Between pangs of laughter, she managed to say, “I should’ve known better than to trust you, you little devil! Always seducing me and then turning on me!” Adam laughed at her, sprawled out on the king size bed. Barbara smiled wide and joined him, laying side by side. 

“Ah hem,” Lydia cleared her throat. “There are children present!” 

Adam sat up and pulled Barbara up too. “Oh quiet, you. You’re fifteen for Christ’s sake. Deal with the intimacy.” He pulled Barbara into a passionate kiss, causing Lydia to promptly look away. 

“This still doesn’t help my dilemma,” Lydia said. “What sport am I gonna do?” 

The couple got up and walked over to Lydia to sit on the couch with her. 

“Basketball?” Barbara asked. 

“No,” Lydia replied and rolled her eyes. 

“Tennis?” Adam proposed. 

“In your dreams,” Lydia said. 

“Swimming?” Barbara said after a moment of thought. “It was my favorite sport by far.” 

Lydia pondered for a second. “Do you have to run?” She finally asked. 

“Not that I remember,” Barbara said. “Pretty much just swimming laps and meets.” 

Lydia looked between Adam and Barbara. “Call outs are next Friday….” 

“You should do it!” Adam said. “Don’t be like me! Expand your horizons! Try new things!” 

Lydia pushed her way up from the extremely plush couch and said, “I’ll sign up, I’ll sign up, gosh. Just don’t start getting all ‘Delia’ on me. Please.” She cracked a small smile. 

Barbara jumped up off the couch and nearly knocked Lydia over with an enormous hug. “Oh I knew you would be a swimmer! You’re gonna do a sport! Oh gosh, they’re addicting. You’re gonna start a swimmer and end up that times ten. Soon enough you’ll be doing tennis and volleyball and soccer, oh my!” She squealed in delight. 

Lydia put her arms around Barbara and slightly rolled her eyes, looking at Adam. He made a cuckoo sign, smiling and pointing at his wife. Lydia nodded, letting go of Barbara and grabbing her things from the couch. 

“I’m gonna go start my homework, okay guys? I’ll see you at dinner.” Lydia carefully walked out the attic door and closed it shut. Adam returned to his work on the model and Barbara sat back down on the couch. They sat in silence, enjoying a moment of peace. 

“I wouldn’t say that was a truthful way to put your high school experience,” Adam said, looking at Barbara. 

“What do you mean Adam? Did you want me to depress her?” Barbara said. “Tell her I was too preoccupied trying to please my mother and my family and my town and every damn college admissions board to even enjoy all the millions of activities I did?” She shut Adam up, and he quietly went back to his work. 

God, she was ready for dinner.


	2. Quinoa Cakes and Holiday Aches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, from Delia's POV
> 
> As Delia enjoys her family dinner, she notices that something's up with Barbara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some stuff before we begin: 
> 
> TW: brief mentions of death, nothing graphic 
> 
> This chapter was meant to go out last night but I didn't get it out to my beta reader in time :( 
> 
> Also: Barbara got her hug in this chapter. Adam is getting his in the next one ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!

Delia carefully set out five places at the dining room table. She knew Barbara and Adam wouldn’t eat anyway - ghosts’ stomachs didn’t work the same as the livings’ - but she did so out of courtesy. If they wanted any of her quinoa cakes, they were free to pile them on their plates. 

Delia smiled as she folded the napkins into delicate swans. She could freely express herself through making dinner and no one could mock her, especially when she made her one vegan dinner a week. This week was quinoa cakes with tomato chickpea garnish, a favorite of hers. Delia could only hope that Charles and Lydia would like it as well. Some of the other vegan meals she had prepared for them did not fare well. 

The kitchen behind her was full of robust smells. The last of the quinoa cakes sizzled on the stove, and the potent aroma of balsamic vinegar wafted through the arch of the doorway into the dining room. “The smell of success,” Delia said to herself. She walked back into the kitchen and took the little patties off the stove and onto the plate with the rest. She grabbed it, and the tomato chickpea garnish, and went to place them on the dining room table. 

After quickly cleaning up the kitchen and setting the dishes to soak, Delia rang the small gong on the counter that Charles had gotten her for her birthday. It’s full sound echoed through the house, alerting everyone that dinner was ready. 

Within a few minutes, everyone was seated at the table; Charles had emerged from his office, Lydia, her room, and Barbara and Adam came down from the attic. They stared down at the odd looking dinner that awaited them. 

“They’re quinoa cakes,” Delia said, smiling from ear to ear. “They’re made with only one ingredient. Anyone wanna guess?” 

“Pig,” Lydia deadpanned, staring straight at Delia. 

“Never! I would never!” Delia exclaimed, hands over her heart. She regained her calm, and said, “It’s made with quinoa.” 

Lydia poked at her cake with a knife and said, “God, never would’ve guessed that. You sure had me stumped, Delia.” 

Charles glared at Lydia from across the table and looked down at his own quinoa cake. “It looks...wonderful, darling,” he said to Delia. “Now what are these in the garnish? Tomatoes?” 

“Yes, dear,” Delia replied. 

“Great. I can work with that,” Charles said, spearing a tomato and popping it in his mouth. 

It seemed as though dinner was going along as normal - Lydia picked at the food until it looked like she ate a bit, Charles only ate the most normal thing in the dish, and the Maitlands asked polite questions about the food. 

“Where did you find the recipe, Delia?” Adam asked. He picked a crumb of quinoa off the table and reluctantly ate it. 

“Oh, it’s in a cookbook I bought on Amazon - 100 Vegan Dinners That The Family Will Love! It’s my favorite collection of recipes by far,” Delia said. She had already ate three cakes, and was inching up on her fourth. 

“Are you planning on making any of the recipes for Christmas?” Adam inquired. He was desperately trying to feign interest, Delia could tell, but she continued on anyway. She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to talk about her passion. 

“Well, I saw this wonderful recipe for vegan dinner rolls, and I’ve been wanting to try that out for some time now. I would do more, but I know I’ll never get Charles to agree to a tofurky,” Delia said with a laugh. 

“You make a tofurky, and I’ll never eat again!” Charles said. The table roared with laughter and even Lydia let out a small chuckle. 

Delia noticed that Barbara was not as engaged as she usually was. She didn’t laugh at Charles’ joke and seemed to stare aimlessly around the dining room, looking at the Christmas decor. There was quite a bit to look at - the whole house was done up in a beautiful manner. There was a tree in the living room, and garland and lights in every archway. Delia was never skimpy when it came to the holidays. “A classy Christmas is the only Christmas,” she liked to say. 

“Like the garland?” Delia asked Barbara. “I got it at a Christmas tree farm just down the road.” 

“It’s lovely. Reminds me of how my grandmother would put it up,” Barbara said in reply. She smiled as she said it, but Delia could tell something was wrong. 

“I forgot that your family lived here,” Charles said, eating the last tomato. “Must’ve been quite a decorated place in the winter.” 

Barbara flashed a quick, reserved smile and said, “My family’s owned this home since they founded the town in 1809,” completely ignoring the decoration remark. There was no pride in her voice, or anything. It was hollow and empty like a chocolate shell; sweet on the surface but nothing inside. 

They finished the rest of the dinner in silence, with no one pressing further. There was only the lone clanks of Delia’s silverware against her plate, still eating her meal. Out of the twelve little cakes she had made, five were eaten; four that she ate and one that Lydia “deconstructed.” 

“Well, I think dinner is winding down,” Delia got up and announced. “Lydia, honey, why don’t you go finish your homework. Barbara, will you join me to help clean up in the kitchen?” 

Barbara nodded and got up and followed Delia into the kitchen. As soon as she was in the room, Delia asked, “Barbara, what’s wrong?” 

“Oh me? I’m fine Delia,” Barbara said, unloading the dishwasher’s contents onto the counter. “I’m good; nothing’s wrong.” 

“Maybe it was just me, but you were very reserved at dinner, especially when we were discussing the holiday season. Any particular reason why?” 

“No, everything’s good, Delia. I promise.” 

“I don’t mean to press, but I want to make sure everything’s okay. Are you one hundred percent sure that you’re fine?” 

Barbara put plate down on the counter and looked at Delia in the eyes. “I just don’t like the holiday season,” she said, plain and simple. “It gives me bad memories.” 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you like it?” Delia the sponge down and put her hand on Barbara’s shoulder. 

“Well,” Barbara reluctantly started to say, “both my mom and dad died around the holidays. Not at the same time, of course, but still, it puts a damper on things.” 

“Oh you poor soul!” Delia said. “I’m sorry it leaves you with such bad memories. Do you want me to take down the garland? Tell them not to talk about Christmas around you?” Delia was being one hundred and ten percent serious.

“Gosh, no! Just because Christmas makes me sad doesn’t mean we should cancel it. Don’t fuss about me,” Barbara said.

“But, how do you cope with it? Stay positive?” 

“You get used to it. It just seems that tragedy in my life always happens around the holidays.” Barbara shrugged and put the plate away, starting to stack the clean dishes in the antique cabinets, still there from her childhood. 

Delia pulled Barbara in for a hug, holding her tight. She could feel all the tenseness leave from Barbara and she melted right into the hug. As Barbara pulled away, Delia said, “Well, at least you’ll get to make better holiday memories with us.” 

“You’re right,” Barbara said, smiling. “It won’t get rid of my bad memories, but it might make me think about them less.” 

“Exactly,” Delia said. “Think positive.” 

Both the ladies chuckled as they continued to clean up, whipping the sloppy kitchen back into shape. The dirty dishes were being cleaned up in the dishwasher, the clean ones were already stacked away. The leftover quinoa cakes were in tupperware for Delia’s lunch the next day. All was well. 

This continued to be Delia ‘s favorite dinner after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will deal with suicide; be prepared. Its not graphic, but sad af.


	3. Mindfulness and Other Ways To Relive Your Terrible Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Barbara's POV
> 
> A morning meditation with Delia opens doors that Barbara thought she had bolted shut after declaring herself "Barbara 2.0."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick but very important things before we start
> 
> TW: brief mentions of death, extremely brief flashback to attempted overdose 
> 
> Ngl I wanna get a chapter out tomorrow night but I don't think it's gonna happen. Plan for Wednesday. 
> 
> This chapter is the foundation for next chapter, so this is like part 1/2
> 
> Also: Adam gets his ~hug~ ;))
> 
> Keep the feedback/kudos rolling!

“I can’t believe we got a recall on the Handbook!” Adam said, dusting off the cover of The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. 

Barbara sat on the attic’s loveseat, reading through the paper they had found tucked between the pages. It was a small, bright pink leaflet, and it must’ve been left there this morning, as Lydia was flipping through it, dusty pages and all, last night. “Well,” Barbara said, “it’s not exactly a recall on the book. They’re saying that they’ve got an updated one in print now and we need to go to the Netherworld to pick it up.” 

“Why can’t they poof it here? Or wouldn’t a digital copy be easier?” Adam said. 

“They’re pretentious dead people,” Barbara stated, like it was a simple fact. “They do everything for the aesthetic.” 

Adam flopped onto the bed, and spread his arms out. “Well, Babs, I am not going there.” 

Barbara got up from the loveseat to lay down next to him on the old, flowery comforter. Everything in their little attic was old, small, and cramped. The bed was practically on top of Adam’s model on the table, and the door couldn’t fully open because of the mahogany chest behind it. After their wedding, Barbara and Adam started to clean up the house’s...antique style. They threw all the old furniture in the attic, and decided to deal with it later. She had been bugging Delia to start getting rid of the stuff almost as soon as they started living in the attic, and after a few months of it, all that crap was starting to get in the way. 

“But why don’t you wanna go there?” Barbara asked, cuddling her husband. She curled his hair around her finger, something that she knew drove Adam insane. “I’ll go with you, Adam; you don’t have to go alone.” 

“I heard that it’s disgusting and scary and that the people there are quite less than nice,” Adam explained. “And besides, the Yelp reviews are horrible! By the time we get the new handbook, the years we’re forced to spend haunting here will be up.” 

Barbara laughed softly and said, “Yeah, you’re right, sweetie.” She kissed him on the cheek, and continued to cuddle him, her little spoon. Finally, after a few moments of cozying up, illuminated by morning sunlight streaming in through the attic window, Barbara let go of Adam and slowly got up from the bed. 

“I’ll go to the Netherworld this afternoon. I promised last week to practice some meditation with Delia this morning, and,” Barbara stopped and looked up to the clock across the room. She saw it read five to twelve, and said in a rushed voice, “oh, gosh, I’m gonna be late!” 

Barbara jumped off the bed and the worn springs creaked loudly. She wove her way through piles of boxes and furniture and promptly rushed out the door and down the stairs. “Bye! Love you!” She yelled from the bottom of the steps, and she ran down the hall of the second floor to the small room on the left. 

The quaint library was almost completely dark, with deep purple drapes covering the windows and bookshelves. Soft, instrumental music drifted throughout the room. Barbara could swear she smelled sage. Candles were lit, placed on top of the small tables. Crystals were placed in between each candle, and they glimmered in the low light. Delia had scooted the vintage rocking chair out of the way and cleared the floor to set out two yoga mats. 

Barbara closed the door behind her. “Welcome!” Delia said, eyes closed, sitting criss cross on one of the mats. “We are gonna do some serious meditation and get some mindfulness up in this bitch!” 

Barbara sat down on the other mat next to Delia and shut her eyes, starting to take notice of her breathing. It was shallow and quick from running down the stairs, but she controlled it to a regular pace as Delia began to speak. 

“All right,” Delia said quietly, but firmly. “Breathe in and out.” 

Barbara took deep breaths, calming herself and her racing pulse. They took twenty minutes to do this, and half the time Barbara was concerned that Delia fell asleep. She knew that Delia was definitely up last night, due to the negative perk of living directly above the master bedroom. 

“We are going to get relaxed before we begin.” Delia took a pause and then continued, “Imagine you are floating on a pond. It is a small pond, no animals in sight, just you and the earth. Feel the water on your back as you slowly move across the water’s surface.” 

Barbara imagined what Delia had said; she was floating along a pond. She imagined it was the pond she used to go to as a child. It wasn’t too far from the very house she sat in right now. 

“Feel the breeze on your skin. Let it push you gently across the smooth water.” 

The mental breeze brushed Barbara’s face, and she felt completely calm.

“Focus on the words I say. We are going to go through a simple guided meditation,” Delia said. Barbara nodded along.

“Think of a few things you hate,” Delia said. “Things you despise with the bottom of your soul.” 

Barbara thought of a lot of things. She pictured herself being late to this meditation. She pictured herself messing up a recipe. She pictured herself in her college graduation gown, holding hands with her dying mother. She pictured herself at five years old, laying down for a nap on the couch with her dad, after making him so, so mad the night before. Barbara shuddered when she thought of the last one, but tried to swallow the incoming panic attack down like fiery vomit threatening to come up. 

“Now find the common theme in all of these things. What ties them all together?” Delia said, humming along to the music. 

Barbara’s pulse started to race as she realized that she herself was the common theme in what she hated. She had never imagined that this meditation would take such a turn, and now she was struggling to remain calm as her breaths got shallower and shallower. “Gosh, this is your fault,” she thought. “You’re making this about yourself. You don’t hate yourself! You’re Barbara 2.0 for fuck’s sake. You don’t do this anymore. You don’t do this anymore. You don’t do this anymore.” She repeated that last sentence like an overused prayer - something said so much to the point where even the most devout of people don’t believe it anymore. 

“Finally, think of how you can be a happier version of yourself,” Delia said. “How can you eradicate this root of hatred?” 

Pills.

Pills.

Pills.

The pouring of fifteen Vicodin into her hand, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. 

The look of defeat and depression and hatred. 

Note on the counter, signed and dated. 

Pressing the first of the pills to her lips.

Don’t wake Adam.

Adam.

Barbara’s eyes shot open, tears brimming. She scrambled up to her feet, startling Delia to open her eyes as well. “I need to go,” Barbara said, tearing out of the room, knocking purple curtains and crystals down. 

“Barbara, wait!” She could her Delia yell, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out of there, before she started remembering things she’d buried years and years ago. Barbara’s nimble feet raced down the hall to the opposite end and she barged straight into Lydia’s room. 

She stopped as she walked inside and gently closed the door behind her. The room was just as she remembered it when it was her room all those years before. Of course, Lydia had a...unique way of decorating that Barbara didn’t have, so some of the room had a different vibe. Dark purple was definitely not the color Barbara would chose for the room, nor hang up blackout curtains. But it was the same bed, same nightstand, same closet that she remembered. 

Barbara carefully opened the closet door and collapsed in the comforts of the cramped space. Whenever she had felt angry or sad, she would sit in her closet and cry it out, like when she failed her first and only test, or when she was fed up with being the perfect student, the perfect athlete, the perfect daughter.That’s what she intended to do now, as Lydia was still at school. 

“Have you seen Barbara?” Barbara could vaguely hear Delia say to Adam. They must’ve been down the hall. 

“No,” Adam replied. “I was going to ask you. She’s supposed to go pick up a new handbook from the Netherworld. I drew up a door and everything; I was coming to get her so she can go.” 

“I forgot,” Barbara sighed. “I have to go to the Netherworld. Great.” She picked herself up from the closet’s floor, closed the door, and took one last moment to enjoy the room. She put a hand on the wooden frame of the canopy bed, feeling the country craftsmanship behind it. If she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she was in high school again, young and so determined, full of energy that Barbara yearned for today. So young and naive and not yet disabused of the belief that she knew it all. 

She wandered over to the window and picked a flake of peeling paint off the wall. Barbara could see the color pink underneath the purple coat of paint, and she slowly remembered what this room was meant for, after she had grown up but before the Deetzes ever stepped a foot in the house. Barbara’s heart began to race. 

So many memories of this room swirled through her mind - her first kiss, opening her Yale acceptance letter, painting the walls pink for a guest that would never come. The shuddering in her chest began again, and she briskly opened the door and walked out. That meditation had reopened a door in her mind that would not stay closed. 

Barbara didn’t feel so 2.0 anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we are gonna go to the Netherworld, see our blue/green skinned fav (!!), and start unraveling the mystery of Barbara's past :)) 
> 
> Be warned, more mentions of suicide/death
> 
> Also: anyone else using beetlejuice fics to cope with the fact that its being forced from the winter garden theatre??


	4. Carabidae: the Common Ground Beetle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara goes to the Netherworld and finds more than just a new Handbook in section 1988-B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this is a whole chapter focusing on suicide and death, so.........yeah 
> 
> This chapter is kinda long in comparison to the other chapters, that's why its a day late :((
> 
> This wasn't beta read so like I die like a man today folks
> 
> 10/10 hope y'all cry (about the fic, not the fact that beetlejuice is being evicted from the winter garden :()
> 
> Thank you to all my continued readers, keep commenting! Welcome to all my new readers, and leave some kudos!! 
> 
> Love y'all crackheads <3

“Babs!” Adam exclaimed, quickly walking down the hallway. “That’s where you were! Delia said you, um, got very upset and walked out on her and I wanted to check on you.” Adam looked so nervous and jittery. He put his arm around Barbara, but she shrugged it off. 

“I want to go to the Netherworld,” she said, staring determinedly at the staircase to the attic. “It needs to get done, and I need to clear my mind.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay, hon? Delia said you seemed awfully distressed, and if you’re not in the right frame of mind, I just don’t want you going down there,” Adam rambled on, but Barbara walked down the hall and up the stairs. She stopped at the top of the steps, leaving him in the middle of the hallway. 

“That meditation reminded me of things I stopped remembering, Adam. Stuff me and you agreed never to speak of, and I need to get my mind off of it,” she said, plain and simple. She started to walk into the attic as she heard Adam scramble up the stairs behind her. 

“But Babs, maybe going there isn’t a good idea,” he said. “Do you even know the people that work there?” 

She didn’t even turn around to acknowledge him. “Of course not. Why would I know them?” Barbara was inches away from the green glowing door that would take her to the Netherworld. 

“They say people that work there are people that committed su-” Adam started to say, but Barbara turned around and shut him up with a firm kiss on the lips. As she pulled away, she could see his cheeks flushed and she knew she left him hot and bothered. 

“Stay like that, sweetie, and maybe when I get back, I’ll do something to get all this shit off my mind,” Barbara quipped. It didn’t come out sexy and lighthearted like she had wanted it, but it sounded angry and almost like a certain demon she knew; that honestly terrified her. She opened the door a crack and stepped a foot in, fully ready to enter, but turned around. As much as she was frustrated and annoyed, she couldn’t just leave Adam without making up in some way. 

“I’ll see you in a little while,” she said in a softer tone, holding on to Adam’s hand. 

He smiled and said, “Just be careful, Babs. And please, please promise me that if you start to have an episode like this morning, you leave immediately and come back.” Adam stared at her in a fiercely loving way. 

“I’m gonna be fine, Adam,” she said. 

Adam shook his head and said, “Promise?” 

Barbara sighed, turning around to open the door some more. “Promise,” she finally said. The door was now open and she began to walk into the bleak blackness ahead of her. 

“Love you!” Adam called. 

Barbara was too far away to hear it. 

There was a lot in the Netherworld to take her mind off the shit she was dealing with. 

Being in the Netherworld felt as if you were eternally on fire. The air was extremely humid, and a dense smoke hung at the top of the cramped waiting room’s ceiling. Barbara’s dress stuck to her skin, and it was quite uncomfortable, since it was hot enough to burn alive in there, you know, if she was still alive. It was noisy and loud and almost dark as she imagined a coffin would be. How fitting. 

“So this place really feels like Hell,” she thought. Barbara stood waiting at the shuttered counter, perpetually ringing a bell for what felt like hours. At least it gave her plenty of time to take the place in. 

The waiting room left much to be desired. It felt like the lobby of a sleazy motel - cigarette burns on the couches, highly inappropriate magazines on the coffee table, and of course, the matching “mystery” stains on all the upholstery to go along with it. The low light provided another slew of distasteful horrors. An undead couple was busy getting it on in the corner, and they were very creative with the use of bullet wounds. In the opposite corner, she could make out someone snorting a line of cocaine. She wasn’t fearful or scared for her safety. Seriously, this was a regular occurrence at all the high school parties she used to go to. Barbara just wished that the damn receptionist would get there already. 

“Coming, coming!” A shrill voice exclaimed from behind the counter. 

“Finally,” Barbara muttered. “It only took ten years.” 

The shutters cranked up and Barbara got her first real glimpse into the Netherworld. The atmosphere reminded her of sweatshops that she would see on the news. It was cramped, full of desks, and people slaved away, filing papers or on the phone. Very little light shone in. Machines beeped, phones rang, and screaming filled what was left of the air. She wondered how people got anything done in the noisy and disgusting workspace. 

“What do you need, dear?” A woman asked Barbara. The woman had greenish blue skin, and her bright orange hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail. Barbara thought she was wearing quite an odd getup for working in an office. The woman wore a golden shimmery dress, and a pageant sash that said “Miss Argentina.” She sat at a desk behind the counter, typing away, and then looked up to Barbara. 

“Oh, well, I’m Barbara Maitland, and my husband and I received a leaf-” Barbara started to say before the woman interrupted. 

“The pink leaflet? Of course, the new handbooks were released today,” she said, getting up. “I’ll open the door and you can follow me.” The door next to the counter opened, and Barbara reluctantly walked in. 

The woman was ten steps ahead of Barbara, and she waved her arm in the air, smile plastered on her face like a model, and yelled over the noise, “Hello! I’m Argentina, and I’ll show you to the Handbook Redistribution Center! Follow me!” 

Barbara ran to catch up with Argentina, who was so nimble getting around the mess on the floor that Barbara thought she never even touched the ground. 

“Your name is actually Argentina?” Barbara asked. “It’s not just where you’re from?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Argentina said, “My name is Argentina, and I am also from Argentina.” 

“And you’re also their pageant winner,” Barbara said, pointing to the sash as she tried to keep up with Argentina. 

“Second place, actually. Never ‘got the gold;’ I just wear the sash because the winner gave it to me before I died. And interestingly enough, ‘Argentina’ comes from the Latin name for silver,” Argentina said, whilst hopping over a puddle of something that sizzled. “Even my mother knew I was second place material.” She held up the sash with her hand, and Barbara couldn’t help but notice a deep red gash at her wrist. It rubbed her the wrong way, but she didn’t know why. 

Barbara continued their rush to the center in silence, passing through huge doorways, and narrow corridors. She didn’t know how to respond, but she did know how Argentina felt. Barbara never aspired to be a beauty queen, but she had spent her entire childhood trying to be Winter River’s sweetheart, so she knew the struggle. 

“Ah yes, here we are!” Argentina said, as they arrived to a corner of a warehouse-like office space. “This is section 1988-B, where Handbooks for those with MAI- last names are. Warren here will help you out.” She then briskly walked away, leaving Barbara alone amongst piles and piles of books. 

She heard a rustling from behind one of the piles and a man emerged. 

The Netherworld had stopped. There was no more rustling, no more movement, no more beeping, no more yelling. Barbara tuned the whole world out. 

Her blood ran cold. She couldn’t move; she was paralyzed in shock. He looked the same as he did that fateful day, from the red pullover sweater he wore to the way he parted his hair. Barbara’s mouth was dry and she could barely make out a word. 

“Dad?” She finally said, her voice cracking. “Dad is that you?” 

Nothing that Barbara said seemed to phase the man. “You’re Barbara Maitland, correct?” He asked, writing on a clipboard. 

“Yes,” she said, shaking, tears forming in her eyes. “And you’re my dad. You’re Warren Davis.” 

Warren looked through stacks of books, and said, “Yes, I am Warren Davis.” 

“But you’re my dad. You know you’re my dad, right?” Barbara was terrified, more so than she ever was in that waiting room. She was afraid he’d remember her and hate her, but she was also afraid that he wouldn’t remember her either. 

“Ah, here we go!” Warren said. “The Maitland copy of The Handbook for the Recently Deceased.” He handed it to her with a smile. 

“You know who I am right?” Barbara begged, clutching the Handbook to her chest. “Please say you remember me; I don’t care if you hate me! I’m your daughter! Your little beetle! Barbara!” She broke down crying on the floor. 

Warren stared at her in confusion. Through blurry eyes, she could see him talk into a walkie-talkie. “Argentina? We have a distressed customer in section 1988-B. Can you send someone to get her?” He said. Warren bent down to help Barbara up. 

“You’re my dad!” She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re my dad!” She took Warren’s hand and stood up with shaky legs. 

Warren looked her in the eyes. They were so empty, full of nothingness behind them, and she felt like she was looking at a stranger. 

“I think if I had a daughter, I’d remember her, ma’am,” he said. “And besides, you’re much too old to be my daughter. I’m barely thirty as it is.” 

She didn’t know what to do. There was obviously no way to make him remember her. If there was, the screaming in his face would’ve done it. So she just stood there and cried. She cried and cried and cried on her father’s shoulder, as he put his arms around her and held her tight, comforting the daughter he forgot. 

“Mr. Davis?” Barbara heard from behind her. She let go of the hug to see a young girl in a horse rider’s outfit behind her. Her skin was a sickening pink, and her white outfit was stained with black hoof prints. The worst of all was her helmet; it was bashed in on the side and a bloody mess poured out of it. 

“I’m here to take Mrs. Maitland,” she said. The jockey held out a hand to Barbara. 

Barbara turned around and took one last look at her dad. She could see a glimpse of her eyes in his cold, empty ones. Even though it hurt, she took it in. It was probably the last time she would see him, afterall. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she went away with the jockey. 

The walk back to the waiting room was a blur. Barbara was crying again, and she could tell that the jockey didn’t quite know how to react. She just stayed silent and led Barbara all the way back to Argentina. 

“You poor thing!” Argentina exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. Argentina held her tightly and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go somewhere more private.” 

They ended up in a small office covered wall to wall in filing cabinets. A desk sat in the middle of the room. Barbara sucked in a breath when she saw Juno’s name on the nameplate. 

“So Warren is your father?” Argentina asked. She sat opposite of Barbara, in Juno’s chair. 

“Yes, he is,” Barbara said, sniffling. She didn’t look Argentina in the eyes. 

“He committed suicide?” Argentina asked.

“Yeah, obviously, since he’s here, I guess. It took me a while to figure out that’s why all of you are here.” Barbara said. She took a moment and then continued. “It was an overdose. Fifteen Tylenol. Took a nap on the couch and never woke up.” 

Argentina gave a small nod. She held up her wrists, revealing both to be deeply slit. “I was tired of being a silver,” she said. “And Presley, the jockey? The teen sent her horse in a frenzy so she could stop being the perfect horse rider her mother wanted her to be. In the moment, death seemed like the only good choice for the both of us. Do I regret it? Absolutely. But some people don’t. It depends on what drove us here, and what we make of the circumstances. No matter what we make of this place, one thing is universal to the Netherworld - we all have our reasons for getting here.” 

“And his reason was me,” Barbara said. “I made him mad the night before, and then I got dropped off at home after kindergarten and he was taking a nap, so what did I do? I joined him and laid on his chest, not noticing the fact that it wasn’t rising and falling. Next thing I knew, I woke up in my mother’s arms at a hospital.” 

“But that wasn’t his reason,” Argentina said. 

“Well, how do you know?” 

Argentina looked at all the file cabinets around. “Do you know what’s in these?” She asked. 

“No.”

“Before Juno…went missing, she had a policy,” Argentina explained. “She wiped the memories of all the civil servants here. She only left the memory of how they died, not why or what they left behind.” 

Barbara let a small gasp escape. Her dad didn’t remember her because he couldn’t, not because he chose to forget her. 

“These file cabinets,” Argentina continued, getting up to open one, “are full of their memories. Every person and their life story is contained in this room. And when I’m bored, I go through them.” 

“Have you seen all of them?” Barbara asked. She got up from the chair to get a closer look at the dull, beige cabinets. 

“Many times over. Juno’s almost never in here, and work at the counter gets dull.” Argentina closed and opened drawers until she pulled a small vial out. It was full of a milky white liquid that swirled slowly, and it was corked at the top. “Your father’s,” she said. 

Barbara tenderly took and held her dad’s vial. As she stared into the whiteness, she could see memories that she barely remembered. 

She saw a younger version of her dad on the campus of Yale, holding hands with her mother. She saw her dad graduating with his Masters in entomology. She saw her dad, anxiously waiting as her mother walked down the aisle, accompanied by his father. She saw her dad anxiously waiting again, this time outside Yale’s biology office, and then saw him welcomed in as Dr. Davis. All these things had occurred before Barbara was born.

Then she saw herself, a tiny baby in Yale-New Haven Hospital’s nursery. She was crying, and then the nurse handed her to her father. Baby Barbara immediately quieted, and stared up at Warren. Her eyes were wide as she took her first look at her father. 

More memories swirled in the vial, ones that she remembered: him taking her to her mother’s restaurant, them going to his own office in the Yale biology department, and the hundreds of times he called her the special nickname he gave her, based off her middle name, Cara: Beetle. She was his “little common ground beetle,” or Carabidae. 

The memory changed, and Barbara’s chest tightened. She saw herself with a black crayon, drawing ten million little beetles on the wall. She couldn’t hear the memory, but Barbara knew exactly what her younger self was saying. 

“Carabidae! Carabidae! Cara just like me! Barbara Cara Davis!” Her five year old self was singing as she drew on the pristine, white hallway wall. 

Then Warren entered. “Look at the carabidae, Daddy! The common ground beetle!” She said, throwing her arms up in the air. 

Barbara shuddered as she watched the memory, seeing him yell at her. She knew exactly what he was saying, and she mouthed it along with him. “Barbara! God, why do you do this? You make everything so much harder for me!” 

Barbara shoved the vial in Argentina’s face. “See,” she said, “that’s his reason right there! He was mad at me, and fed up and frustrated, so he killed himself.” 

Argentina pushed the vial away and chuckled softly. “Keep watching,” she said, so Barbara kept her eyes plastered to the memories. 

She saw her father take a letter off the kitchen table. It was addressed to her mother, Cheryl. Warren opened it, and discovered it was written by Cheryl’s mother. He started to cry as he read it. 

Barbara put the vial down. “What was that?” She asked. 

“Your father didn’t kill himself because you drew beetles on the wall. He killed himself because he felt as if he wasn’t good enough for anything: good enough to be a father, a good enough partner to Cheryl, or a good enough professor. He had everything, but felt as if he deserved none of it,” Argentina said, “and the letter was just the thing that pushed him over the edge.”

What Argentina said had shed everything Barbara remembered about her father in a new light. The way he talked negatively about himself, masking it in a joking manner. The way he wrote up lesson plans, frowning and comparing himself to his old professors. The way him and her mother stayed up at the kitchen table almost every night, talking a conversation that mainly consisted of her mother reminding Warren how much she loved him. So many things made sense. 

“What did the letter say? Do you know?” Barbara asked. 

Argentina sighed. “Your grandmother was begging your mother to come home to Winter River. Your grandparents were enduring relentless slander because they let their daughter go away with a New York boy to Yale. The hatred had escalated to the point where your grandfather lost the mayoral election to their biggest enemy and the person who spread the slander - John Maitland. Warren knew that Cheryl hated the fact that she caused her parents that pain. He figured his death would bring her back home.” 

“It wasn’t me?” Barbara asked. 

“Never,” Argentina said. “He loved you until his dying breath.” 

“But not after,” Barbara said wistfully. 

“Would you like me to restore his memories? Say goodbye one last time?” Argentina was dead serious, and she reached for the vial on the desk. 

Barbara thought a moment. “No,” she finally said, “I don’t want him to remember all his pain. I just wanted to know why he died. Now that I know, I’d rather him not know me than spend eternity wishing to go back to what he left behind.” 

Argentina nodded, and put the vial back in the cabinet. “Ignorance is bliss,” she said. “Are you ready to go back?” 

Barbara nodded, and Argentina opened the door and led her back to the waiting room. On the way there, they passed Presley, unhappily typing away at a computer. Barbara stopped and gave her a hug, holding the poor girl in her arms. She found it so sad that at a young age, Presley had already decided to end her life. Now the teen was stuck in the Netherworld, forced to pay for her decision. If only Barbara could take her away from here. 

As they finally arrived in the waiting room, Barbara squeezed Argentina’s hand and said, “Thank you for everything.”

“Come back if you ever need help,” Argentina said, “or someone to talk to.” 

Barbara nodded and grasped the Handbook. She turned around to face the door, still a bit hesitant to go back. She took a deep breath, and started the walk through horrors to get to the door. She felt confident. She felt like Barbara 2.0. For the first time since kindergarten, Barbara felt confident enough to say something she had saved to say only when she finally got her closure. 

“Carabidae,” she whispered to herself, and then walked through the doorway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna (try) to do something about the eviction, here is the link to the change.org petition!! 
> 
> http://chng.it/8wrzCZ7Mk9
> 
> <3


	5. Healing Is A Process (That Some Take Quicker)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healing is a process
> 
> Barbara starts her process
> 
> (Or alternatively: Adam gets hung up on a certain Netherworld jockey)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas update! Finals week is over, so back to our regularly schedule life destroying angst :)) 
> 
> We are starting now to explore Adam in this fic, and unravel yet ANOTHER secret to Barbara's past. There's still more secrets though ;))
> 
> TW: mentions of cancer
> 
> I will put out a Christmas chapter sometime this week, and then a New Years one. The Christmas one will be a two-parter; one from Barbara's POV, and one from Adam's. 
> 
> Happy Holidays to all my readers!! The best Christmas present for me would be to see more kudos and DEFINITELY more comments, about anything! Ideas, headcanons, you name it! I love y'all and thank you for the continued support :_) 
> 
> See y'all in the comments section (hopefully) ! <3

As soon as she walked through the doorway, she was met by the now darkened attic. Adam was sitting on the rocking chair, sleeping. He jolted awake as Barbara shut the door and set the handbook down. He jumped to his feet. “Babs!” He said, pulling her into a hug. 

Barbara stood trapped in Adam’s hug, slightly surprised, but she freed her arms from under him and hugged him back. “Adam,” she softly replied. They melted into each other, and again, everything felt right. 

Then Adam abruptly pulled away. “Babs!” He said, not angrier, but more serious. “It’s eleven o’clock. You’ve been gone for hours!” 

“Was it really that long?” Barbara said, fixing her hair. “Gosh, the Netherworld’s time isn’t on the same playing field as ours. I was there for an hour, tops.” 

“Was everything okay?” Adam asked. He held Barbara’s hand as they walked to the bed together.They laid down, and Barbara curled around Adam, combing her fingers through his hair. The light from the frilly old lamp on the nightstand dimly illuminated the room, and Barbara hoped Adam couldn’t see the tears starting to form in her eyes again. 

She stayed silent for a long time, thinking over what had happened in the Netherworld. Barbara didn’t hide what had happened to her dad, and obviously Adam knew, but she preferred not to think about it. And now, even though she got her closure, her heart ached to remember it. 

“I should've listened to what you tried to say. I saw him there,” Barbara whispered. 

Adam moved away from Barbara and sat up against the headboard. “No,” he said. He stared down into his lap, lost in thought, and finally continued. “How was he?” 

“He didn’t remember me,” she said, and she got up and sat next to Adam. He gasped, and put his hand on Barbara’s. “They wipe their memories, you know. So they don’t want to go back to what they left behind.” 

Adam nodded. “Was it bad?” 

“Worse than this morning. I should’ve come back,” Barbara said, not meeting Adam’s eyes. The beating of her heart quickened, and the feeling that had plagued her for the last few days returned. She had no clue why; she had her closure, she was fixed. She had declared it months ago, but now she was finally Barbara 2.0. 

No she wasn’t. 

Maybe she was comforted in knowing why her father died, but her past still bothered her, held her back. She still physically hurt, and the hidden pink paint on the wall still made her want to grab the fifteen Vicodin all over again.

She didn’t want to think about that. Anything but that. 

Barbara may have died, but the pinkish skin on her chest and collarbone was still itchy. Her hair was still thin. Occasionally she’d feel her fingers tingle, and find a new bruise somewhere. She’d look in the mirror and see in her face the pained expression of her mother, Cheryl, who went through all of this years ago. 

Except Barbara was dead, yet almost alive, eternally suspended in limbo where her breast cancer hurt her every day yet it couldn’t kill her. 

“Barbara won’t let cancer stop her!” 

It did. 

“Barbara 2.0 won’t let phantom cancer stop her!” 

It does. 

“It’s okay,” Adam said, squeezing her hand. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.” 

“You’re right,” she said. Barbara pushed down those thoughts and scratched where the neckline of her dress ended. Just remembering the itch made it irritated. 

She changed the subject after a tense moment of silence. Barbara didn’t want the conversation to die, and dreaded sleeping, where her subconscious would come out to play. “There was a girl down there,” she said. 

Adam looked up from picking at his cuticles. “Really?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Her name was Presley. She couldn’t have been older than Lydia.” 

“And she’s there? So soon?” Adam said. He stopped picking his cuticles entirely and kept eye contact with Barbara, completely invested. “Why?” 

“Oh, you know, parental pressure to be ‘great.’ She was a jockey, and she whipped her thoroughbred on purpose. It struck her in the head, and the part of her helmet where it’s bashed in is a bloody mess,” Barbara said. “I feel so bad for her, but there’s nothing I can do.” 

“You can’t take her out of there?” 

“They can’t leave,” Barbara said sadly. “It’s just not fair for her. She didn’t know that death would only bring on another set of horrors. When she came to take me from Warren she seemed so sweet...” 

Adam was full of energy and he seemed very...2.0. Confident. Assertive. Almost defiant. “But we can visit her, right? Make excuses to come to the Netherworld and meet with her to take time away from slaving down there? We gotta save her in any way we can. I need to meet her. I wanna bring her here! You know I always wanted two daughters, Babs.” Adam’s eyes were wide like a pug’s and he had the expression of a puppy seeing their first chew toy - excited with a sense of urgency underneath. 

Barbara put her hand over his, and said, “Woah there, honey. Yes, we can go down there to talk with her, but we have to remember a few things. First, we cannot take her home. She can’t leave, and even so, if we did, it’s like adopting a child - we have to talk to the Deetzes about it, especially Lydia. She needs everything we need: a place to sleep, a place to relax, and we can’t do that if this attic is so cramped that we can barely live here.” 

Adam nodded, but his eagerness didn’t back down. “I know, I know, Babs.” 

“Second,” Barbara continued, “we don’t even know if she wants to be adopted by us, or even talk to us. Presley has a strained relationship with parental figures afterall.” 

“Yes, you told me.” 

“Lastly, we already have a daughter, Adam!” Barbara said, louder than before. She saw Adam flinch and a quick expression of guilt flashed over his face. “Lydia is a huge responsibility, and she relies on us. I’m not comfortable with adding Presley in, at the very least for now. Not to be insensitive, but I prioritize what I have at the time being over what I could have in the future.” Barbara didn’t want to chastise Adam, but she knew that Lydia would either love or hate the idea of Presley being brought into their family equation. 

Adam’s excited-new-toy puppy expression changed to one of a puppy that was yelled at for pooping in the house. The smile on his face changed to a frown and his eyes had a glint of bitterness in the edges. “Now you prioritize it,” he said under his breath as he slipped down under the blanket, and rolled over. 

“What did you say?” Barbara asked. She knew exactly what he said, what he was referring to, and it stung. 

“Nothing,” Adam said. His back was to her, all the way on the other side of the king bed. 

Barbara slipped under the covers and turned away from Adam. She hated going to bed angry when they were alive, as infrequent as it was, and she still hated when she was dead, it seemed. It felt the same, no matter what plain of existence you existed on - a crushing feeling that was a deep as the rift of the Grand Canyon. 

What had her grandmother told her when she was nine? 

“Never go to bed angry if you’re not prepared to wake up with the other side of the bed cold.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget, if you haven't please sign this change.org petition to (potentially) save Beetlejuice!! 
> 
> http://chng.it/8wrzCZ7Mk9
> 
> <3


	6. Cheryl Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara' POV
> 
> Christmas Eve brings itchy skin, holiday blues, and the unraveling of one more secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! 
> 
> Two updates in a row?!? I'm very proud of this :)) The second part of this 3 (?!) parter will be up tomorrow. 
> 
> TW: mentions of cancer 
> 
> Keep commenting!! The whole motivation behind writing this tonight was the fact that I had two lovely comments on my latest chapter, and it made me hella happy. (Also bc I told myself I couldn't watch the first ep of the Beetlejuice cartoon series until I finished it lmao) 
> 
> Love y'all crackheads and happy holidays!! <3
> 
> AJ

Sunlight streamed out of the attic windows almost directly onto Barbara’s face. Her eyes fluttered open, and she didn’t shut them again. She felt rested for once, probably because her sleep was peaceful and completely undisturbed by her subconscious. That hadn’t happened years. 

Barbara stretched her arms out. “Gosh, Adam, I feel so rested!” She said, rolling over, but stopped mid roll as soon as she saw the other half of the bed. 

Adam wasn’t there. 

Adam’s whole half of the bed was neatly folded and made, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Barbara ran across the room to look for him behind the wardrobe, the chair, and any big piece of furniture stored away up there. 

Then she saw the door. “Oh gosh, he’s there,” she said, rushing to the door to the Netherworld. She grabbed the knob and jimmied it, but it was locked from the inside from when she returned last night. Adam couldn’t be there. 

She sat defeated on Adam’s side of the bed. Barbara felt guilt pooling in her gut, and sighed. Adam was hiding - somewhere in the house - from her. If had she never yelled at Adam for wanting to save Presley from her predicament, this never would’ve happened, and on Christmas Eve, the day Barbara needed Adam the most, no less.

The door to the attic clicked open. “Adam, if that’s you, I'm sorry honey,” Barbara said. Adam’s side of the bed faced away from the door and Barbara was grateful. She didn’t want to see Adam as he came in quite yet. 

“It’s Delia, silly!” Delia said. Barbara turned around to see her in a frilly apron. Delia walked across the room and sat down next to Barbara. 

“But what’s up with Adam?” Delia asked. “I haven’t seen him all morning.” 

“Shoot,” Barbara said. She sighed and put her head in her hands. 

Delia put her arm around Barbara, and said, “What’s wrong? Did you guys fight? Are you alright? Is Adam alright?” 

Barbara picked her head up and looked to Delia, but didn’t meet her eyes. “It was a silly little thing; Adam’s just being petty. He woke up early and I bet he’s hiding around the house waiting to scare me or something.” 

“Oh,” Delia said. She paused for a second and continued. “Well, you know, it’s Christmas Eve, and I came here wondering if you would help me in the kitchen?” 

Barbara face lit up a teeny bit and she nodded. “Of course, Delia! I wouldn’t mind.” She would do anything to get this debacle off of her focus, deven if it meant facing the explosion of holiday cheer downstairs without her husband to help her through it. 

“Great!” Delia exclaimed, and pulled Barbara up and out the door. “We have a lot to do!” 

Delia wasn’t kidding. Damn, was the woman ambitious. “So, the menu is this: one ham, one tofurky, vegan dinner rolls, vegan mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, salad, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, and mixed veggies,” Delia said, chopping up cauliflower into “noodle” size pieces. 

“Wow,” Barbara said. She chopped carrots next to Delia. “And dessert?” 

“Oh, well, there’s not that much. Just a chocolate pie, a vegan cheesecake, and all the cookies I baked yesterday,” Delia said. She pointed over at the island countertop, filled to the brim with piles of Tupperwares packed with cookies. Barbara looked at the sight with awe. The biggest Christmas dinner her and Adam had contained only one main dish and three sides, and maybe just a pie. 

Barbara went to work and finished chopping all the carrots and then immediately went on to the onions. She pushed through, but the skin by the neckline of her dress felt like it was inflamed. She put the knife down occasionally to scratch it, and altogether had to stop because it would not give. 

Delia put her knife down and turned to Barbara. “Do you want me to get you some ointment? I have some in my medicine cabinet upstairs.” 

“That would be nice,” Barbara said. She continued to scratch it, and she could sense it getting redder and redder under her touch. 

“Lydia!” Delia called. Lydia emerged from the den, all dressed up in her black skirt and blacker ugly sweater. It said, in elegant white gothic print, “This Is My Ugly Sweater.” Barbara chuckled when she saw it. 

“Yes, Delia?” Lydia said as she waved hello to Barbara. Barbara waved back with her free hand. 

“Get the anti-itch ointment from my medicine cabinet, please? Thank you,” Delia said. Lydia nodded and headed to the stairwell. 

Delia turned back to Barbara, looking down at her rash. “How long has this been going on?” Delia asked. 

“Since I’ve been alive,” Barbara said. “It’s a side effect.” 

“Side effect of what?” 

Barbara stopped. It occurred to her that she never told Delia. “Um, I had breast cancer,” she said. “I had it for a few years, then it went away, and I thought I was okay. Then it came back again shortly before I died.” 

Delia put her hand over her heart. “You’re serious?” 

“Dead serious. My grandmother died from it, my mother died from it, and I almost did too. The floorboards got to me first, though.” 

Delia let out a small gasp. 

“That’s why my hair is so thin and I bruise easily. Chemo, you know. I guess I’m lucky I died before it took all my hair.” 

“I guess so,” Delia said as she placed the ham in the oven. Barbara could tell she was still in shock, even if she tried to mask it with politeness. 

There was a rustle on the counter, and Barbara turned around to see the ointment sitting there. She picked it up and uncapped it. The cool cream poured on her fingers and she gingerly applied it to her collarbone. Barbara put the cap back on and placed it back where Lydia left it, and went to chopping onions. The fire on her neck now paled in comparison to the way her eyes felt as she cut into the onions. 

“So your mom had cancer?” Delia asked after a long, long time of silence. They had worked in a peaceful quiet until now, but Barbara knew it wouldn’t last as Delia was a curious person by nature. 

“Yeah, it was pretty horrible,” Barbara said, even though she knew it would open her Pandora’s box of emotions. “We found out right after my high school graduation. It ruined a lot of things. I ended up going to college here, right next door in Union, Connecticut, instead of Yale. I had to take care of her, since my grandparents and father were dead. The worst part was breaking up with Adam, since he was going to MIT, and wanted nothing to do with Winter River after graduation. He understood why, and he wasn’t mad, but even then we both knew that we were meant for each other. It sucked, but I had to do it. She gave up so much for me. It was only fair.” 

“You took care of her all by yourself?” 

“Yeah. For two and a half years. With no help. Even though she was ‘Cheryl Winter,’ great-great granddaughter of the town’s founder, everyone hated her, and our family.” 

“Why?” 

Barbara laughed while she stirred the mac and cheese. “Long story short, she left to go to Yale, and the whole town turned on her for it, because ‘Winters stay.’ So it f-ed me over for all my life, especially when I was struggling with college and a dying mother. No one lent a helping hand, least of all John and Doris Maitland, Adam’s parents.” Barbara started to feel inflamed not on her collarbone, but in her chest. All the guilt and worry she had about Adam bubbled into anger. 

“Oh, Barbara,” Delia, said, but Barbara cut her off. 

“I worked my ass off all my high school years for the town to love me, accept me after my mother’s mistake and my father’s suicide, but I guess it didn’t work. No one helped. No one cared. No one sent casseroles or cookies. No one came to the house to ask how I was,” the words fired out of Barbara’s mouth like a rapid fire machine gun. “And when she died on my college graduation day, when I ran to the hospital in my graduation gown and held her hand as she passed? I was invisible. The Maitlands would walk by me on the street and would look straight through me as if I wasn’t there, suffering in their faces. When other families grieved during Christmas, the whole town would put up their tree and make them a dinner the size you’re making. My Christmas that year was me eating ramen and tearfully looking for job applications. The lonesome girl on the lonesome house on the hill deserved no love from the entire town, I guess. The last time this house was this decorated, this full of food, Cheryl was still alive.” Barbara’s face was flushed red and she couldn’t see properly as her eyes were brimming with tears. 

Delia put the freshly made green bean casserole down and pulled Barbara into a hug. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Barbara,” Delia said. 

Another wave of anger dispersed, and Barbara started to feel better. “I think, I think I needed to let that out,” she said. “I’ve been letting the Christmas season bother me for much too long, and it’s held me back from enjoying it.” 

Two traumas down, one to go. 

Delia pulled away from the hug and went back to sliding the casserole into the oven. “I’m glad I could help, then,” she said. 

The relief Barbara felt slowly morphed back into guilt. “Normally Adam helps me through today; helps me suppress my feelings,” she said. Barbara had spent most of her morning - and now afternoon - helping Delia and not looking for Adam. 

“Adam...where is he?” Delia asked. 

“Good question,” Barbara said, guilt continuing to bubble like the boiling pot of water behind her. 

Dinner was just about done. It had taken them a few more hours to complete it, and the ladies looked happily at their hard work as Lydia and Charles took their places at the table. Everything was as it should be - steaming hot food on the dining room table, tree twinkling in the background, fireplace warm and lit, and snow covering the outside windowsill. 

Well, almost everything. 

“Where’s Adam?” Lydia asked. “It’s Christmas Eve dinner. Shouldn’t he be here?” 

Barbara looked nervously at Delia, but before she even had a chance to see Barbara’s expression, they heard someone running down the upstairs hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment where you think Adam is.....
> 
> ;))


	7. Cheryl Maitland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam' POV
> 
> Adam talks of his first daughter
> 
> (Not the strange and unusual one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Christmas 3-parter is up! (And on time, no less :)) 
> 
> TW: death bc what else is new 
> 
> On a personal note: tonight my family and I watched Beetlejuice together! It was special as it was my dad's first time watching it :)) 
> 
> Please enjoy the fic! The third part should be up tomorrow 
> 
> AJ

The comforter of the bed was scratchy and hot. Adam tossed and turned underneath it until he was close enough to the edge of the bed to see the clock on the nightstand. “Dammit,” he said, squinting at the glowing red time. “Only four thirty?” 

He couldn’t sleep. His under-the-breath statement haunted his dreams, filling his mind with the memory of him begging Barbara to put what she had at the time being - herself - first. It was whiplash to hear Barbara to use that same statement against him yesterday, and while Adam had cooled off, it still hurt. 

“I gotta see Presley,” he thought. “It’ll make me feel better.” Adam slowly pushed the comforter off and slipped his legs out. He tried to make as little movement and noise as possible. Waking Barbara would defeat the whole purpose of sneaking out. 

Adam stood up and carefully fixed his side of the bed, fluffing pillows and straightening out the comforter. Tiptoeing softly towards the door, Adam abruptly stopped. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he thought. “I can only be there for a little while. I can’t let the whole day slip away like Barbara.” He reached for the doorknob and jimmied it. It wouldn’t budge. 

Staring puzzled at the door, Adam suddenly had an epiphany. “When in doubt, knock,” he whispered. He rapped on the door three times, and then heard the satisfying pop of the knob opening. The door cracked open, and Adam tentatively stepped in and locked the door behind him. 

Adam was not prepared for the Netherworld. Adam would never be prepared for the Netherworld. The place was absolutely horrendous. It was almost pitch black, full of dense smoke, and was as humid as he imagined rainforests must be. “How did Barbara do this?” He said, taking in all the horrors it had to offer. He bit the skin around his thumbnail to calm himself down as he approached another door. 

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Adam raised his voice as he fought through a crowd of people in the waiting room. They all looked like haunted house actors - bright and bloody, with enough axes and machetes to arm a militia. He finally reached the counter to find a green skinned women at the desk behind the wall. 

“May I help you?” She asked, quite cheerfully.

“Yes, actually. I’m Adam Maitland, and I’m here to see a girl named Presley,” Adam said. 

“Oh, really?” The woman said. “I believe your wife was here yesterday. She was with Presley, no?” 

“Er, yes. Barbara left something here and she sent me to come pick it up,” Adam said, absentmindedly scratching his arm. He didn’t particularly enjoy lying, but sometimes it had to be done. 

“Alrighty then,” the woman said. “I’ll open the door and you can follow me.” 

The door next to the desk swung open and Adam walked into the heart of the Netherworld. He thought it wasn’t possible for it to get worse, yet it did. The office space made the attic look spacious, and he was certain that if the Netherworld had building codes, they were definitely not being followed. Vaguely human looking creatures typed away at computers stationed all around the room. They looked like people, but they were pale and gaunt with brightly colored skin, and they seemed to be teenagers. A room full of teens working office jobs that they couldn’t leave. 

The green-skinned woman led Adam to a desk where a young girl sat. Her skin was a bright pink, but around her eyes was a deep purple. She wore an outfit Adam imagined a jockey would wear, but it was marked up with hoof prints and smeared with blood. “Presley?” The woman said. The girl looked up to see the woman and Adam at her desk. 

“Oh, hello,” Presley said. 

“This is Adam Maitland,” the woman continued. “His wife left something here yesterday and he said you have it.” 

“Oh, I don’t know Argentina, I don’t think,” Presley began to say, but Adam cut her off. 

“I got it from here, ma’am,” he said. Argentina huffed and marched back to her desk at the front. 

Adam crouched down so he was balancing on his heels. “Hey,” he said. “So, you’ve met my wife, Barbara, right?” 

Presley nodded. “She was the woman here yesterday. She didn’t leave anything here, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“That was a lie. I just wanted to get past her to talk to you.” 

“Really? You should’ve told me that,” Presley said. “Let’s go to my hideout then.” Presley grabbed his hand and pulled him along down a hallway. She opened the door to a tiny office lined wall to wall with file cabinets. Adam looked around, curious. It was boring and beige, and he almost fell over when he saw the nameplate on the desk. 

“I know her son, you know,” Adam said holding Juno’s nameplate up. He took a seat in a chair.

Presley made herself comfortable in Juno’s chair. “That asshole? He’s the worst demon in the Netherworld. I’ve never known a more vile person than him, and I knew my mother.” She rolled her eyes and took a mint out of the jar on the desk.

“Well, I wouldn’t say he’s that bad. He was pretty charming. And cute.” 

“You’re disgusting,” Presley said. “If I knew how to exorcise a demon, I would. The way he runs the Netherworld right now is worse than Juno. We can’t leave the building, we can’t take a lunch break, we can’t do anything but work.” 

“Wow, I’m sorry. I never knew him to be like that. He must be a completely different person down here,” Adam said. He had the most peculiar feeling that Presley wasn’t talking about BJ, but he let it roll. 

“Well, why are you here?” Presley said. “Obviously there’s nothing that Barbara left, so what’s the rush to come down here.” 

Adam was hesitant. Now that he was here, he was scared to talk to Presley. What if she hated him? What if she wanted nothing to do with him? What if he wasted his Christmas Eve for nothing? 

“Barbara told me about you,” he started, “and I think you’re a sweet girl. When she said you couldn’t leave, I was sad. It’s not fair that you have to suffer down here. So, if I can't have you come to me, I wanted to come to you. I always wanted two daughters.” 

“You have a daughter?” Presley asked. 

“Not really. She lives in the house with us, but she’s not me and Barbara’s.” 

“So, you technically don’t have a daughter,” Presley corrected, sucking on a mint. 

Adam took a deep breath. There were two ways to answer this question: the truthful way, or the sugarcoated one. Which would he choose? 

Truthful. 

“Well, we actually did,” Adam said. “It was 2010. We had been married for less than a year when we found out that Barbara was pregnant. We were elated. It was a dream come true, and after years of unstable lives, we felt grounded. Then the bad news came.” 

Presley sat up straight in the chair, and had her elbows on the desk, fingers clasped. “Then what happened?” She asked. 

“Barbara was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer a month after finding out she was pregnant. She was devastated. Both her mother and grandmother had it; both died from it. And it only took her mother two years to pass.” 

“Oh no,” Presley whispered. 

“Barbara was convinced it was a death sentence. Instead of joyously preparing for the birth of our child, she had us preparing for her death. We travelled as much as the doctors would let her. We went through her bucket list and did what we could. She briefed me on how to care for the baby and how to do all the things I would have to do since she wouldn’t be there. Barbara believed that when she walked into the delivery room, only the baby would come out. You could imagine how that made me feel.” 

“Horrible,” Presley said. “Damn, that’s fucking horrible.” 

“All I wanted for her was to listen. The doctors kept telling her that she had an eighty percent chance of surviving the delivery and the months after, but she refused to listen to them, believing only what the pattern of her family showed - that she would die quick. I remember looking her in the eye and telling her, ‘Not to be insensitive, but I prioritize what I have at the time being over what I could have in the future.’ I wanted the baby to live, but if I had to choose, it’d be Barbara over the baby any day.” Adam’s throat stung as he said it, and regret that he said what he said yesterday flooded his mind. If he hated remembering now, he was sure it wasn’t any easier for Barbara. 

“So what happened?” Presley said. She sat on the edge of her seat. 

“On December 20, 2010, a healthy baby girl named Cheryl Maitland was born. She was named for her grandmother,” Adam said. 

“Aww,” Presley said. “But what about Barbara?” 

“She was shocked and in awe, and I think a little...disappointed, but she was alive,” Adam said. 

“That’s that, then,” Presley said, smiling. “You do have a daughter.” 

“I didn’t finish my story,” Adam said, and her smile went away. “Thirty minutes after delivery, I’m running down the Union Hospital hall to the nursery. I hear Barbara’s nurse get called down there urgently and I follow behind her. After getting lost briefly, I’m there ten minutes later, and I experience the worst feeling I’d ever have the displeasure to feel. My little Cheryl died thirty minutes after her birth, from a massive heart failure. I take my time walking back to Barbara’s room. I hear the nurse give her the news.” 

Presley’s face was drawn back in shock. “No,” she quietly said. 

“Barbara was so prepared to not walk out of the delivery room that she never entertained the idea that she wouldn’t be the one dying.” Adam took a moment and took a deep breath. He blinked back a few tears that threatened to spill. 

“No, no, no,” Presley said, staring down into her lap.

“What is it?” Adam asked. “Cat got your tongue?” 

“No,” Presley said, looking Adam in the eyes. “After Barbara left yesterday, I was looking through your guys’ family file. There was no Cheryl Maitland listed.” 

Adam’s heart felt like it stopped. “What?” He said. “You must’ve been looking at it wrong, we buried her and everything.” 

Don’t let hope in. 

Don’t let the hope that you’ve been clinging to for nine years cloud the truth. 

“I’m not gonna say these files are magic, but humans who can fuck things up are not in charge of putting the official records together. Whatever baby you buried...wasn’t yours,” Presley said. 

Adam quickly got out of his chair and ran out the door. “Sorry, Pres! I’ll be back later!” He yelled, already in the waiting room. He pushed through the crowd and ran down the darkened hallway until he barreled into the attic. Swiftly weaving through the piles of mess, he headed down the staircase and the other staircase to find the Deetzes and Barbara eating Christmas dinner. They all turned around to see Adam, breathing heavily as he stood in the middle of the doorway. 

“Babs!” Adam exclaimed. “Cheryl’s alive!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!!! Bc I can!!!!
> 
> Also: the new "ruler" of the Netherworld that Pres talks of?? 
> 
> It's not BJ 
> 
> ;))


	8. Not-So-Silent Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam comes back with news that Barbara isn't ready to hear
> 
> The storm brewing in the Deetz-Maitland household finally erupts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part of the Christmas three-parter has arrived!! (Its really short but very, very powerful) 
> 
> TW: mentions of death and reference to attempted overdose 
> 
> Before y'all read this, I'd like y'all to know: I'm sorry for my sins ;((
> 
> Another short chapter should be here tomorrow/the day after that
> 
> Love y'all and again, I'M SORRY 
> 
> AJ

“What?” Barbara said, hand still in the air holding her fork with a piece of ham speared on it. “Cheryl is not alive.” 

Adam raced over to the table and stood between where Lydia and Charles were sitting. “No, Barbara, Cheryl’s alive! She’s not in the file of decea-”

Barbara waved her hand in the air, cutting the tension in the room. “Adam, we’ve talked about this. Cheryl is GONE, buried in the Maitland family mausoleum with the rest of your family. I’ve said this about ten million times,” she stated plain as day. A headache was starting to bother her; Adam could tell by the way she furrowed her brows as she went to pick up another slice of ham. 

“No, Babs, I talked to Presley and she said that-”

Barbara looked up from her meal and stared at Adam, shocked and angry. “So that’s where you’ve been?” She said bitterly, dropping her fork and letting its clang echo the room’s high ceilings. “In the Netherworld, huh, behind locked doors? Visiting Presley, who I told you we were not going to visit unless we were together. You never listen, do you?” 

“I never listen?” Adam said, turning red. “I told you for years that I felt that the baby we buried wasn’t ours, but you dismissed it!” 

“A mother knows her child! A mother knows her baby! And my baby,” Barbara said, staring down Adam with eyes full of ice from across the room, “is buried six feet below.” 

A shouting match erupted, turning the wouldbe “silent night” into anything but. The Deetzes could only stare in abject horror as the couple went at each other’s throats. 

“You’re scared,” Adam said, pointing at Barbara. “You’re scared because if Cheryl’s alive, that means you were wrong, and gosh! Miss Know-It-All can never be wrong, can she?” 

“You didn’t even give a shit about the baby anyway! It was always ‘Barbara, put yourself first!’ or ‘I prioritize what I have now over what I could have later.’ You’re probably happy that she’s dead.” 

Adam gasped. “You take that back! I was just as sad as you were, and you know it!” 

“Oh, really?” Barbara said. “Did you hate yourself over it? Did you cry as you painted over the pink nursery walls as soon as you arrived home because you couldn’t bear the shame and guilt you felt when you saw them? Did you pour fifteen Vicodin into your hand and stare yourself down in the bathroom mirror, wondering if you were better off with her, but ultimately decide to keep going on this wretched life because you know that the person you are yelling at right now could never go on without you?”

“Enough!” Lydia yelled as soon as Barbara finished. Adam and Barbara both stopped and stared at her as she got up from her seat. “I’ve had enough of this bickering. Both of you, go upstairs. Now.” 

The couple looked at her, confused. “Now!” She yelled louder. 

Barbara and Adam stormed up the stairs and went in two different directions - Adam to the attic, and Barbara down the hall. 

Lydia sat back down and picked up her fork. She looked at Delia and her father, who were both bewildered. “Let’s have a peaceful Christmas dinner,” she said, and they slowly began to eat in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry :(( 
> 
> (only kinda tho ngl bc i'm proud af of this chapter) 
> 
> (but we are on the fluffier things next chapter, if that heals any of y'all's broken hearts


	9. A Very Deetz Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You guys can have a bit of Deetz family fluff, as a treat ;))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Short-ish update, but very fluffy to detoxify you guys from all that angst. Our big storyline with Barbara and her struggle to be "2.0" is almost at a close. Think of the first ten chapters as season one. I have some big stuff (maybe even a crossover wHAT?!?) planned for season two ;)) 
> 
> The next chapter is gonna take me a while lmao. Don't be surprised if it gets posted at like 1 am on new year's day. 
> 
> TW: extreme fluffiness 
> 
> Also: questions? I'm thinking of doing some other fics as I now am in the swing of things with KUWTD and know where this is all going lol. Here's some stuff that I'm still probably gonna write but I want your feedback on: 
> 
> · BJ Modern Greek Mythology AU where Adam and Babs are Hades/Persephone (there's more plot to this than I have here obviously)  
> · Pregnant Barbara headcanons and ficlets  
> · going along with that last idea, headcanons and/or a whole fic about my take on the pre-musical Maitlands and Winter River bc as y'all can tell, I put a LOT of thought into world building and backstory  
> · bear with me on this one: Delia x BJ fics/ficlets (if you don't get this, please watch "The Real Housewives of Beetlejuice" in the third episode of "Seize the Day-O" by Leslie Kritzer, minute 6:52. You'll thank me later.)  
> · (if you are not a star wars sequel fan, skip this one, I just wanted to know if any of y'all are in that fandom) Hux x Phasma fics/ficlets bc they are always backsteated to reylo so FINE I'LL DO IT MYSELF
> 
> Thanks for sticking with that! You may see some of this stuff posted, so subscribe to me if you want to get notifications when these are up! 
> 
> AJ

It felt wrong to eat without the Maitlands. Lydia picked at her food and realized how silent she was without them to entice her into conversation. She could tell that Charles and Delia thought it was awkward too. Even they didn’t talk, and it made the once wonderful Christmas ambiance fall flat. 

“Hey Delia,” Lydia said, trying to spark up a conversation. “I was wondering if you could take me to the skating pond this weekend.” 

Delia looked up from her food, eyes wide and smiling “Of course!” She said. Ever since the days of her simply being a life coach had ended, Lydia knew Delia was hoping for some one on one time with her soon to be stepdaughter, even if it was a ten minute car ride. 

“That’s good. Stella invited me to hang out there and teach me how to ice skate,” Lydia said. She stared at her plate, a bit embarrassed and shy. 

“Who is this again?” Charles asked. “I can never keep track.” 

“Stella Butterfield? She’s a girl in my grade. We have my honors classes together - Chemistry, English, and Algebra Two. She lives just down the road.” 

“Butterfield?” Charles said. “That name rings a bell.” 

Delia laughed. “One of their daughters sold us Girl Scout cookies. Skye, I think. But not that’d you know, sweetums. You’ve ate them all!” 

“Yeah,” Lydia added. “There’s two of them - Stella and her sister Skye. I think Skye turned nine a few days ago, too. There was something on Stella’s insta story about it.” 

“Well, aren’t they the sweetest girls! I believe Skye attached a thank you note with the boxes we bought. Who’s even that polite anymore?” Delia said. “They must have very good auras!” 

“Yes, I would say so. Stella is a nice girl. Isn’t she the one who had a solo in the production of ‘Once Upon a Mattress’ that you did?” Charles asked. 

“Yeah, she was Winnifred,” Lydia said. 

“Ohhhhh,” Delia exlamiamed. “She was the one you didn’t shut up about! Didn’t you say that her voice was as smooth as chocolate or some other sweet sentiment like that?” 

Lydia stared down harder into her food as she felt her face get red. “Yeah, Delia, stop it,” she said. 

“Sorry! I just remembered that you talked about that girl non stop all first quarter and then suddenly you didn’t,” Delia said, retreating back to her tofurky and mac and cheese. 

The table went quiet again as they ran out of things to say. Lydia couldn’t help but stare across the table at Barbara’s still full plate. The shouting match the Maitlands had left Lydia with so many questions. Who was Cheryl? Why did Adam think she was alive? Who was Presley? The thing that made Lydia the most uneasy was the last sentence Barbara had said, the almost incomprehensible rambling having to do with fifteen Vicodin and Adam. Did Barbara attempt suicide? These questions dominated Lydia’s mind and she was left wondering if she really knew the Maitlands at all. 

Her spinning mind was set to a halt as Delia broke the silence. “So what are your family’s Christmas traditions? It’s not like I have any to share," she said, adding her signature laugh at the end.

“Um, well,” Charles said, “what we used to do with Emily was open up one gift on Christmas Eve, and wait to open the rest on Christmas morning. But it was a silly thing, we don’t have to-”

“No, no, no, I think it’s cute!” Delia interrupted. “That’d be a splendid thing to do. Anything else, Lydia?” 

Lydia sighed deeply. “The gifts we’d open on Christmas Eve were always family pajamas. My mom and I would go to Walmart and buy the most ridiculous looking pj’s and wrap them together. I’m talking huge cartoon snowmen or a Santa with a fuzzy beard. We made it a game to bet how bad my dad’s reaction would be,” Lydia said and she caught herself smiling at the memory. She cut the smile and looked down back into her food. “But I don’t think we’ll be able to do that this year.” 

Charles chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that quite yet,” he said. 

“Oh, this is gonna be wonderful!” Delia said. “I just can’t wait. I’m going to start cleaning up right away.” Delia got up and went right to grabbing the half eaten ham and the barely touched tofurky. 

“Wait,” Lydia said. “What about Barbara and Adam?” 

“What about them?” Charles said, getting up out of his chair. 

“Aren’t we gonna invite them down here to be with us? They’re practically our family, and you don’t abandon family on Christmas.” 

“Lydia they’re having problems that we don’t understand and they need to work it out between themselves,” Charles responded. 

“No, I bought them presents, and they should be down here! We need to go talk to them. They've been having problems for a while, especially Barbara. Didn’t she say that Christmastime is a bad season for her? Delia knows what I’m talking about, right?” Lydia looked at Delia, who was awkwardly trying to grab bowls of mac and cheese as the father and daughter argued. 

“Well, yes, Charles, Barbara has been talking to me about her struggles. I do really think we should talk to them,” she said. “Sorry not to side with you, sweetums, but Lydia’s right.”

Charles rolled his eyes and pushed his chair in. “Fine. Whatever. You two go convince them to come down here.” He started to walk towards the den. 

Lydia pulled the cuff of his suit jacket and stopped him. “No, no, no,” she said. “You two are gonna talk to them. I’ll pack up dinner and distribute our one present, don’t you worry. Delia? Go talk to Adam. Dad? Find Barbara. I think she’s in my room.” Lydia smirked and started to clear off the table, hurrying Delia out of the kitchen. She watched to make sure as Charles grumbled his way up the stairs, his fiancée prancing not far behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember the small details
> 
> to quote my guru, delia deetz, "everything, everything happens for a reason" 
> 
> <3 love y'all and if i don't post in time, happy new year! see y'all creackheads next decade!!


	10. A Very Maitland-Deetz Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being counseled by both Delia and Charles, Adam and Barbara finally take their first steps to really being 2.0. 
> 
> And some super cute Christmas fluff to finish off our season :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!! Here's the final chapter of season one of KUWTD. There will be a short hiatus for maybe two weeks or so as I gear up for season two!!! 
> 
> TW: mentions of death, suicide, overdose, and brief reference to cutting 
> 
> This took me so long to write because a) its so massive and b) i wanted to make sure I was honoring each character and their arc, whether big or small. I hope you really enjoy this "finale"!!
> 
> Also: a few days ago, I posted a companion piece to this, "Barbara, Adam, And A Baby On The Way." Please check it out as it is all canon to this piece, as well as it will enhance your reading experience of KUWTD. All the details I have to cut when writing go there. Check it out; it may not have a lot now but it will later!! 
> 
> Love you guys! Thanks for the unending support you give me as a member of this fandom and as a writer. You guys make my day, every day. Here's to a great New Year! :)) *clink clink* 
> 
> See y'all in the comments section :) 
> 
> AJ

“You know, I’ve never really had much of a chance to talk to Adam,” Delia said while following Charles up the stairs. “I didn’t think I was going to get the chance to meet him like this, but still, it’s good to keep my life coach skills on my toes!” 

“I’m glad you can find the good in this,” Charles said, reaching the top of the stairs. “This is a waste of my time. I don’t think that woman even likes me.” 

Delia put her hand on Charles’s shoulder, smiling. “I’ve been talking to Barbara a lot. She’s more like you than you think.” Delia turned from Charles and walked down the hall to the attic staircase, leaving him almost dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway. 

“Adam?” Delia asked cautiously as she entered into the attic. She couldn’t see that well as the only lights he had on were Christmas lights hanging above their bed, but she could make out Adam standing in the far corner leaning over something. She stumbled her on her way to the other end of the room, tripping over table legs and old books on the floor. 

“Delia?” Adam said, moving his hand over whatever he was by. 

“Adam, I’m here to talk,” Delia said, putting her hand on his shoulder. She could finally see what he was touching - a handcrafted wooden crib. 

“This was hers,” Adam whispered, continuing to slide his hand on the handrail. 

“Cheryl?” Delia asked. She gently pulled him away from the crib and sat next to him on the bed. 

“I made it for her. Pinewood and a manchurian tung oil finish. I did woodworking and antique restoration. Barbara did pottery. They were our ways of replacing Cheryl,” he said, still staring at it. 

“Ah, well, the crib’s very nice,” Delia said. “But, Adam, we really need to talk about that-”

“I don’t get it,” Adam interrupted, getting up to pace around in front of Delia. “I don’t get it! Why doesn’t she believe me? Why doesn’t she hold out hope?” 

“Adam,” 

“She should be happy! She should want to find our real daughter!” 

“Adam, please listen,” 

“No! For all these years I watched as she hid the fact that she wanted her little Cheryl, and now that she might be able to have her, she wants to dwell in the past?” 

“Adam, stop. Calm down,” Delia said, pulling him back to sit next to her. “You’re a dreamer like me. You wear your heart on your sleeve and never back down from showing how you feel. If you’re sad, then you show you’re sad. If you’re bothered by something, you let everyone know. And that’s okay! But Barbara...she’s very different from you. She hides what she feels and pretends that things don’t bother her. She lets her emotions build up, and then they explode like she did earlier. Communicating her feelings is hard for her, especially considering her upbringing. She had to be strong all the time and you know that.” 

Adam nodded, saying, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Her upbringing is also why she finds it hard to invest her hope in things,” Delia continued. “She held out hope that her mom wouldn’t die. She held out hope that her community would help her through her grieving Christmas. I can see why she isn’t clamoring to the thin string of hope you’ve provided her with.” 

“I guess,” Adam said. “But what can I use to prove to her that Cheryl’s alive and out there somewhere?” 

“She’s a realist. Show her facts. Bring her those files you mentioned, and if you can’t bring them to her, take her to them. If you think that your baby was switched, look through hospital records. Find who Cheryl could’ve been switched with. Do your research. It’s easier to believe facts and files than something your spouse yelled at you.” 

“Delia, you’re absolutely right; I’ve got to talk to Presley right now!” Adam said, walking to grab the handle of the door to the Netherworld. 

“Come back here,” Delia said. Adam begrudgingly sat back down. 

“So who is this Presley,” she asked, “and is this a reason to call the marriage infidelity hotline?” 

“No!” Adam said, horrified. “No, no, no, no. She’s a civil servant in the Netherworld, and she’s Lydia’s age. So no marital infidelity happening there.” 

Delia laughed. “Alright, that’s good, but why would Barbara be mad about you visiting her?” 

Adam looked down and picked at his cuticles, saying, “Well, she didn’t want me to go visit Presley without her.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

“The thing is, you know that Barbara and I think of Lydia as our daughter, right?” 

“Yeah, and you guys are great with her and she loves you, so yeah,” Delia said. 

“Well, I always wanted two daughters, and when Barbara told me about Presley, I knew that she would be the second daughter I never got to have in life. I wanted to adopt her right away and do whatever I could to smuggle her out of the Netherworld, but Barbara told me to take it slow. We had to talk to you guys first, especially Lydia, clean out the attic, and of course, get Presley’s consent. But I wanted nothing more than to be impatient. So I went down there today to talk to her. That’s when she disclosed that there was no deceased ‘Cheryl Maitland.’” 

“I have to say Barbara’s right,” Delia responded. “You need to do all those things before you can even talk to Presley about your proposition. I understand, though, that you were impatient. I get it. Next time, maybe both of you should go together.” 

Adam sighed. “Yes, you’re right; Barbara’s right,” he said. He took a moment to look up, and with a slight chuckle, he added, “She always is.” 

Smiling, Delia said, “She’s a smart one.” 

“But, I think I should go down there anyway,” Adam said, getting up. “I’ll be there for only a few minutes, just to get the files-”

“Hold on,” Delia said, grabbing Adam yet again and seating him next to her. “You need to apologize to Barbara first. Both of you crossed the line during that yelling match, and if you don’t apologize now, you’re going to hate each other for the rest of the millennia you’re spending here. Also, it’s gonna make gift unwrapping later pretty awkward. Secondly, you need to commit to supporting her twenty-four seven. Charles is talking to Barbara right now, and while that may sound like a very odd duo, I know that he’s saying just what she needs to hear. I feel that she’s gonna be able to start feeling ‘2.0’ very soon. But to help her on that journey, you need to be there for her and encourage her. Help her aura flourish.” 

“Yes, I will ‘help her aura flourish,’ Delia,” Adam said, cracking a smile. He got up and started to head down the attic stairs. 

Charles tentatively walked down the hallway to his daughter’s room. The door was closed, and he softly knocked on it three times. “Come in,” a quiet voice said. 

He carefully opened the door to finally see what his daughter’s room looked like. It was how he had imagined it - dark purple, blackout curtains, grainy Polaroids of Lydia and Emily hanging on the wall. At first he didn’t see Barbara at all, but peculiarly enough, the closet door was open. He walked over to find Barbara sitting in the darkness of Lydia’s messy closet. 

“This used to be my room,” Barbara said. “I used to hide in this closet all the time.” 

“Oh, um, wow,” Charles said. He looked around the room for somewhere to sit, but eventually sat down on the carpet across from Barbara in the closet. 

“I would come in here where I was sad, or lonely, or confused and I would always come out with either the answers I needed or peace of mind,” Barbara said, looking down into her lap. “But now all I feel sitting in this closet is unending waves of shame and guilt.” 

“I don’t think Lydia did that bad a job decorating it,” Charles said. He looked around the room some more; anything to not look Barbara in the eyes and make this more awkward than it already was. 

“Not that. This used to be the nursery. Believe it or not, this room was bright pink and had a handcrafted crib made specially by Adam. There was a rocking chair, and a changing station, and billowy curtains that I kept open to let all the sunlight in,” Barabara said and then sighed. “But I painted over it, and drew the curtains shut, and locked the door. Might as well keep it hidden if we had no use for it.” She chipped off purple paint from the bottom of the doorframe. 

Shut

Locked 

Hidden 

“She’s more like you than you think.” 

“You know, you and I are quite alike,” Charles said, looking Barbara in the eye. 

Barbara laughed. “How is that so?” 

“We hide away what we feel instead of dealing with it,” Charles responded. “When Emily died, I completely shut down for a week. I couldn’t do anything. I slept in the garage on a couch because I couldn’t bear to get in our bed. I had Lydia go in my closet to get me clothes because seeing her things in our room made me break down. So instead of coming to terms with my loss, I put it out of sight. We took down all the pictures. We gave all her belongings to Goodwill. It was an unspoken rule not to mention her name. I locked away what I was feeling in order to move on, but once I thought I did, I never opened that box up to properly deal. It haunted me for months. Nothing made me feel better, not Lydia, not work, not even ravenous-as-hell Delia. Only after I came here and was forced to be face to face with my loss of Emily did I ever heal.” 

Barbara nodded her head. 

“I hate to sound like Delia, but you need to open your box and come to terms with what happened to you. From what I gathered from earlier and now, you had a daughter, correct? Cheryl?” 

“Yeah,” Barbara said. 

“She died, and you were very hurt by it.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Charles took a moment before continuing. “And, from the last thing you said, you were so ashamed she died so you attempted suicide.” 

Barbara pulled her legs into her chest, and buried her head. 

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” Charles said. “I’ve caught Lydia cutting herself numerous times, and I’ve visited the hospital once because I got home just in time to save her from an Advil overdose. Like I tell her, I’m not angry or judgemental, I just want to know why.” 

Barbara gulped and pulled her head out of her chest. “Well, well, the thing was, I was never supposed to live. I was diagnosed with breast cancer a month after I found out I was pregnant. It ran in my family, and it appeared younger and younger and killed quicker and quicker. My mom died in only two and a half years. I figured that at the end of the pregnancy, it was gonna be me or Cheryl. Not both. So I prepared for it to be Cheryl. I was coaching myself to die; or at least be at peace with it. That drove Adam insane. I was his everything, and every day I shoved it in his face that on December twenty-first, I wouldn’t be there with him. See, you don’t get it. I had no immediate family - no mother, father, or grandparents. Adam had all of that, but they hated him and shut him out. Besides a few flaky friends, we only had each other. Ultimately, that’s why I didn’t commit suicide. I knew if I did, Adam would be destroyed after losing his wife and daughter in the same day, and I couldn’t do that to the love of my life.” 

“I get why you didn’t, but why did you?” Charles asked. 

“I couldn’t live with the shame, Charles,” Barbara said, raising her voice. “I couldn’t live with the fact that I lived and she didn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be that way! That’s why as soon as I got home from the hospital, aching and in immense pain, I painted over these walls. I couldn’t bear to look at this little nest we made for a baby that would never live to see it. I locked the door and refused to go back in because it hurt. So I wrote the note and raised the Vicodin to my lips.” 

“That’s exactly how I felt. Remembering Emily hurt. But remembering Emily was the thing that made me heal. You need to do that too,” Charles said, offering a hand to Barbara. “Let’s start right now.” 

Barbara took his hand and they both got up. He guided her over to the windowsill where he saw the pink under the peeling paint. “Just touch it,” he said. Barbara pressed her fingertips to the paint. “Pretend that Cheryl is here. She’s telling you that it’s not your fault. What happened was out of the sphere of your control.” Charles watched as tears slipped down Barbara’s cheeks. He hugged her while she tremored, yet kept her fingers grounded, planted firmly on the wall. 

“Healing is a process, Barbara. You’re only starting. I didn’t enter this house, and bam! suddenly Emily’s death didn’t bother me. I expressed my emotions, and let people comfort me. I wasn’t afraid to show that I was weak. It took a while, and now I’m at peace,” Charles whispered into her ear. She nodded, and let the hug linger for a while. 

“But what about Adam?” Barbara said as Charles let go of her. “He says that Cheryl is alive.” 

“Well,” Charles said, “I would give him a chance. Just hear him out. If he’s right, then you might have a chance of Cheryl telling you it’s not your fault in person. If he’s wrong, at least you’ve come to terms with it.” 

Barbara took her fingers off the wall, staring at them in a moment of reflection. “Oh, gosh, I’ve got to apologize! I said horrible things down there. Jeezum Crow, can Adam forgive me for this? Would you forgive Delia for this?” Barbara said frantically to Charles. 

“Of course, of course, of course,” Charles said, reassuring her. “Delia is talking to him right now, and if anyone can diffuse a situation, she can.” 

Relief flooded Barbara and she let the breath she was holding in out. She continued to look at the pink paint. “Thank you, Charles,” she finally said, and turned to face him as she said it. “I’ve been plagued by my shame and guilt for nine years. After I died and realized all the opportunities I missed, my missed opportunity to be a parent was the one that made me feel the most dejected. The fact that I almost had a chance to be a mom made it all the more worse. When Lydia came along, I made her my Cheryl, but even then it felt wrong. I was trying to find somewhere to pour all my sadness into. What I didn’t know was that opening the door is the first step on a long road to healing.” 

“That’s right,” Charles said. “You’re doing great at your first steps.” 

“And I’m already feeling a little bit better than I did before,” Barbara said with a small smile. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve been dealing with all these traumas - my mom, my dad, my childhood - almost as if I’ve been building up to this. This climactic moment where I magically feel totally better. I’ve been waiting for this moment since the first morning I woke up without her. It would be this powerhouse sobbing session, and then I would have a huge epiphany and I would stand up fine and unbothered. But as I’m in that moment I’ve been waiting for, and I know this is that moment, I realize that it’s not like that at all. I’m not fine. I’m not unbothered. It still hurts so, so much. But now I have an idea on how to help change that. Healing is a process, and I’m ready to start.” Barbara walked away from the windowsill and to the door. She turned around to look at Charles. “Thank you for everything,” she said. “You are such a great listener and Lydia’s lucky to have someone like you raising her. I think I’m going to go apologize now.” 

She opened the door, went through, and gently closed it, leaving Charles to reflect on the matter himself. 

As Barbara closed the door to Lydia’s room she saw Adam emerge from the attic. It became a rom-com moment - they both raced to meet each other in the middle of the hallway and when they did, Adam scooped Barbara up in his arms and spun her around. 

“I’m so sorry!” Barbara said as they stopped. “I lost my temper and I meant none of what I said downstairs.” 

“I meant none of that either!” Adam said as he cupped her face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to incite anger between us. And I’ll show you the files, the ones in the Netherworld. We can go down there together.” 

“I’d love nothing more. And I promise to be more open with you, and not hide how I feel. Healing is a process, and I want you by my side.” 

“Of course, m’lady,” Adam said, holding out his arm for her and winking. 

“When you’re so cute like that, dammit, I can’t be mad at you!” Barbara said, pulling him in for a kiss. After she pulled away, she ran her fingers through Adam’s hair as they gazed into each other’s eyes, smiling. Adam stopped and then took a step back. 

“Hey, Barbara, on a serious note,” Adam said, “something you said downstairs concerned me. Did you, did you really attempt suicide after Cheryl died?” He bit his lip and hoped he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries. 

Barbara sucked in a breath and held it for a few seconds. She let it out and said, “Yes, Adam. That night when I went to the bathroom before we went to sleep, I seriously contemplated overdosing. I wrote a note and had the pills at my lips. But I stopped before I could start. I couldn’t do that to you, not after we lost Cheryl. For once, I guess, I put what I had then over what I could have in the future.” 

Adam’s face fell and he rushed over to Barbara, holding her tight. “It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetie. I can’t change the past. All I can do is accept that I almost did it and move on,” Barbara said. 

“I almost lost both of you,” Adam said as the realization hit him. 

“It’s okay, Adam. I’m here now, and maybe Cheryl will be too.” Barbara smiled while she said that, gently pushing him off of her. 

“All better?” Delia asked as she emerged from the attic. 

“On the way there,” Barbara said with a smile. She put her arm around Adam and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Well that’s good! I heard we have Christmas surprises downstairs, so you might want to get down there,” Delia said, walking past them to get down the stairs. The couple quickly followed as well. 

The den was brightly lit with all the Christmas decor - a tree with glimmering lights, electric candles flickering on the windowsill, and tiny villages with lights that Adam envied. Delia took a seat on the loveseat across from the tree, gazing around at the beauty of the holiday lights. 

Lydia sat just beneath her on the floor. She looked up to the Maitlands, sitting directly across on the couch. She flashed a thumbs up sign, and was relieved when both Barbara and Adam sent one back. 

“Oh, I have presents for you guys!” Lydia said, getting up to rummage behind the tree. She was just about to the venture behind it when Charles stopped her. 

“Not so fast,” he said, appearing in the doorway with a bundle of Walmart bags. “We only open one gift on Christmas Eve, and I happen to have some for both of them. You didn’t think I’d let the tradition die, did you?” Lydia sat back down underneath Delia, cheeks flushed with a bit of embarrassment. 

Charles passed out a present to each of them - one for Barbara, Adam, Delia, Lydia, and himself - and then sat down next to Delia. “This has long been a Deetz family tradition,” he said, putting his hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “Every year, Emily and Lydia would buy the most ridiculous Christmas themed pajama set, and then watch my reaction on Christmas night. This year, I took the job up, and now it’s my turn to watch what Lydia feels.” He chuckled as he saw Lydia look up at him, lips cracked in a smile. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and Charles nodded. 

“Now without further ado, Lydia, please open up your gift,” he said, barely containing his excitement. 

Lydia tore through the paper, and bit back a laugh as she saw what was inside. “What is it?” Barbara asked. 

Lydia smiled like an idiot as she held up the pajama set. It wasn’t Christmas themed, but Halloween themed, and it was ghost themed at that. The top was a white shirt with a ghost face, and the bottoms were soft sweats with little ghosties. 

“Oh my!” Delia said, laughing along with Lydia. “They’re just gorgeous! When did you buy them?” 

“All the way back in September,” Charles said, ripping through the paper around his pajamas. “I hid them in my closet.” 

“Oh my, well they’re so festive! Just not for Christmas, but they’re lovely. Did we all get the same?” Delia asked, starting to carefully unwrap hers. 

“Yeah, that’s the whole thing,” Lydia said. “We all get the same.” 

“Even us?” Barbara asked. 

“Yes, of course! I didn’t know if you could change clothing, but I figured I might as well buy them anyway,” Charles said. 

“Well, we can always try!” Adam said, opening up his gift. “Thank you so much, this really means a lot.” 

“Definitely!” Barbara added while throwing her paper in the pile. “You know, my Christmases weren’t ever easy or fun or full of family.” 

“Well, you have plenty of that here,” Delia said. She motioned for the Maitlands to come over, and they all squeezed in on the loveseat, with Lydia sprawled out on all of their laps. 

“Merry Christmas,” Lydia said. 

“Merry Christmas,” the happy family responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* <3 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*


	11. Naps And Why They'll Destroy Your Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check in with our fave demon, and see what he's been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! One last update before I back go to school. Ugh. I believe we will start season two in about a week and a half. Be ready!! 
> 
> TW: a lotta cursing :)) 
> 
> Also, yes I'm a pretentious hoe so I do spell it "Betelgeuse" 
> 
> (This was the most fun writing I've had ever....I should've wrote Beej in sooner lol) 
> 
> I've never seen the musical, only miscellaneous clips, so I hope this is MOSTLY canon compliant. 
> 
> Another thing: imagine Tom Holland, but older and more scheming. You'll understand when you get to it. (And if you're an anti-Tom person, just imagine literally any other British dude with a horny fanbase) 
> 
> Love y'all and see you soon!! ♡
> 
> AJ

If there was one thing Betelgeuse liked more than fucking with the Maitlands and causing general chaos, it was naps. He couldn’t get enough of them. The idea of sleeping as a whole was a great one - it was a free trial of death essentially, like fucking death with no commitment attached - but naps were even better. Breathers’ dumbass social norms contained sleeping to nighttime, but you could smash those norms like you smash the like and subscribe buttons by taking naps! 

Now, taking a nap wasn’t his intention when he returned to the Netherworld after killing his mom and trashing the Deetzes’ house. He was supposed to go on his “vision quest” to “find his father.” That turned out to be as boring as Adam Maitland and his vanilla-as-shit sex life. 

“This is dumb,” Betelgeuse said as he threw a filing cabinet drawer on the floor. The papers spilled out of it as it hit the concrete. Juno’s severed leg also fell, as he had perched it there when he entered the room. “I’m never gonna find stuff on my dad. This is nothing but bullshit about censuses and population boosts and the Demon Council of ‘43.” 

Betelgeuse had come in this tiny room off of his mother’s office to see if he could discover who his father was. He vaguely remembered a man that his mother Juno used to be around. The man was tall and elegant and suave and was the inspiration behind the sexy version of the breathers’ Devil. (So basically exactly like Betelgeuse.) Could that be his father? He would know if he ever found the damn files. 

“Fuck this shit,” he said as threw the last paper he was looking at, a photocopy of some prissy diary entries his mom kept in the forties, on the floor. “I’m gonna take a nap.” Betelgeuse fluffed his hair like a pillow and laid down on the concrete. He snapped his fingers and black and white striped pajamas appeared and then he closed his eyes. 

He was exhausted after becoming alive. Sure, it was very short lived, but it drained him. It was weird. When he felt all those…...feelings, it was like finally knowing the name of a voice actor in an animated movie. He knew what these “feelings” were because he had experienced them before, but now he knew the names of them. When he was dancing around with Lydia and scaring people, he had a warm feeling in his chest. That was happiness. When he was sulking on the roof only days before, he knew now that he was experiencing sadness. Those “feelings” had always set him apart from all the expressionless demons in the Netherworld, and now he knew what those tears and smiles were: human emotions. 

He never felt like he belonged in the Netherworld, but the feeling was never as strong as it was now, especially because after becoming alive, he knew the word for it. 

Loneliness. 

Betelgeuse drifted off to sleep, lulled by the memory of being happy, surrounded by people that he begrudgingly cared about, and also begrudgingly cared about him. 

A kick to the shin swiftly woke Betelgeuse up from his slumber on the floor. “Whatever it was, I did it while I was horny,” he said, still half asleep and eyes closed. 

“That’s not, I’m not here for your horniness,” a strong British voice said. 

Betelgeuse’s eyes snapped open. The voice was familiar, and now he knew why. 

“I was here to get some of Mother’s files on where to order office supplies,” the man standing above him said. The man was very tall, with kind of lanky limbs. His hair was the darkest brown could be, and it was similarly fluffy to Betelgeuse’s. He stared down at the demon on the floor with pupils of red, which was definitely freaking Betelgeuse out. His presence was so imposing and threatening, even though all he did was stand. 

“I didn’t think I would run into my little brother here,” the man continued, putting a hand out to help Betelgeuse up. 

“Cassander, what the fuck are you doing here?” Betelgeuse said as he got up on his own. 

“Well, after mother’s unfortunate accident, the Demon Council swore me in as Head only a few days ago. Why are you here?” 

“Um, well, I, uh,” Betelgeuse said, awkwardly leaning against a filing cabinet, “I came here to find info on our dad.” 

“Lucien?” 

“I don’t fucking know, did he look like you because all I remember is how he looks and he looks a helluva lot like you.” 

“I would say so,” Cassander said with a shrug. “It doesn’t help you to look through these files anyway because he’s dead.” 

Betelgeuse was flabbergasted. “What the fuck do you mean he’s dead?” 

“Around nineteen forty-five, Mother staged a coup to take over the Demon Council and exorcised him. You don’t remember?” Cassander said, plainly. 

“No!” Betelgeuse said. “I can’t remember anything that’s not recent or a childhood trauma.” 

“Oh, well,” Cassander said, turning his attention away from his whiny little brother to a box of papers on a shelf. “I’m surprised you remembered anything at all after that two and a half week nap.” 

“Two and a half weeks!” Betelgeuse said, continuing to feel two new emotions that he could now identify - shock and confusion. “Dammit, it was only supposed to be a three day nap! I gotta go back!” He ran out of the room, out of his mother’s office, past the foxy receptionist and her yells for him to “stop right there,” all the way out the door to the living world. 

It wasn’t the Deetzes’ living room, but rather an icy tundra with nothing but miles and miles of snow. “Are you fucking kidding me!” Betelgeuse yelled, throwing in his hands up to the endless blue sky. “It’s almost like the author doesn’t want me to appear quite yet! Fuck them! I’ll get to my boring little sluts by myself, without any help from you!” But Betelgeuse was too busy freezing his ass off and yelling at nonexistent people to have an important revelation about the filing room. 

Juno’s leg was missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is Cassander? 
> 
> Will Beej get to his boring sluts? 
> 
> And what is up with Juno's leg?? 
> 
> OooOOooOOOooo
> 
> The suspense!!! 
> 
> See y'all for season two!!


	12. The Loophole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia discovers a loophole in the "Handbook for the Recently Deceased."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!!! We now begin season 2, and it is gonna be a wild ride ;) Get ready, bc I have this whole fic (vaguely) planned and its defs gonna be 5+ seasons :) 
> 
> TW: death, and dyslexia, if that triggers anyone 
> 
> Also: I hope I wrote about being dyslexic in a good way.....I am not dyslexic, but I did my research and I think how I approached it was good, I hope. If you've seen the movie, it'll make a lot of sense. 
> 
> The poem referenced is "Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye.
> 
> Get ready, because we are gonna dive deep in this chapter. Season 2 is not the most intense season, but it is defs more intense than season 1 from the beginning. 
> 
> Idk when Ch 13 is coming, prolly sometime this week. 
> 
> Thanks to all my continued readers! I love y'all!!! 
> 
> AJ

It was moments like these when Barbara and Adam felt like they had a family. Adam sat on his wooden stool, tweaking the tree placement in the cemetery of his model of Winter River. Barbara sat on the loveseat, arms around Lydia, eyes closed. She held her as Lydia flipped through the pages of the new Handbook they received a few weeks ago. These intimate, familial moments were the moments that they had craved in life, and they were finally fulfilled. Almost. 

Things were content. The new year had come with a small bang - the whole family had stayed up and celebrated the new year together. They watched the New Years Eve special, and toasted with glasses of champagne and sparkling grape juice for Lydia. At midnight they broke out the noisemakers and rang in the new year. Delia and Charles finished off the rest of the pretty full bottle of champagne, got a little too wine drunk, and spent the next hour after the new year came, well, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 themselves. 

Everything was good. Lydia’s break came to an end, and without her going to the skating pond. A swim meet had come up that weekend, and she had rescheduled the outing with Stella to be tomorrow. Lydia was excited about it, but in the way Barbara could only tell by seeing the teen look down at her phone and smile. 

It was getting better. Barbara would take time out of her day to reflect on Cheryl. She was more open with people, especially Charles. Adam talked to her about her progress often, checking up on her and giving her “daily positive reminders.” They were taking things slow. She had promised Adam that after Lydia went back to school, they would take a day to go to the Netherworld and speak with Presley. It hadn’t happened yet, and Barbara knew Adam was getting impatient. But, he had to wait. She may have been better, but things needed to be taken slow. 

All was as it should be in the Maitland-Deetz household. 

“Hey, guys,” Lydia said, causing Barbara to open her eyes. “I think I found a loophole.” 

“A loophole?” Adam asked, still hard at work on his model. 

“Yeah. I think I figured out how you could leave the house.” 

“Leave the house?” Barbara said, removing her arms from around Lydia. “I thought that we couldn’t leave?” 

Lydia got up off the loveseat. “Well, technically, you can’t. But under this section called “Your Rights,” it says that all deceased have the right to visit their graves.” 

“You don’t say!” Adam said, leaving the table to stand next to Lydia, examining the page of the Handbook. 

“Oh, hon, read the page for me,” Barbara said, “I don’t feel like getting up.” 

Adam froze up for a second, and then said, “Babs, sweetie, you know I’m not good at reading aloud-”

“Oh, Adam, I’m sure you’re fine,” Lydia said. 

Lydia handed the book to Adam, and he reluctantly began to read aloud. “All the diseased - dammit, I mean deceased! - deceased are, are granted the right to the, um, statements listened - no I meant listed - below.” Adam’s face went red, but he still continued slowly. “This list is not, uh, limited to, but includes, the right to a copy of the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased.’” 

“I think you meant ‘diseased,’” Lydia said, but stopped as soon as she saw the hurt look on Adam’s face.

“What? Was that not funny? I’m sorry if I hurt your-” Lydia started to say, but Adam interrupted. 

“Making mistakes when I read out loud are a bit of a sore subject for me. I have dyslexia,” Adam said, embarrassed. “I was diagnosed as an adult, so all my elementary years I was branded as ‘slow’ or ‘stupid.’ To be fair, though, I do read slow, so that wasn’t off the mark. I’ve gotten better but I still have the worst trouble reading aloud.” 

“Oh my God, Adam, I didn’t even know, I’m so sorry,” Lydia said, concerned. 

“It’s alright. It’s kind of silly to be embarrassed about it now,” Adam said with a little laugh. “Not like what you said wasn’t worse than what people said to me in high school.” 

“And yet you were still valedictorian!” Barbara said, with the exact same excitement as a mom holding up her child and the participation trophy they just won. 

“Yes, I was,” Adam said, with an awkward smile, looking down back into the book.

“Anyway, on to the list!” Barbara said, grabbing Lydia by the waist and pulling her to sit on the loveseat. 

“Okay, so the right to a copy of the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,’ um, the right to visit the location of his or her grave, the right to conduct a self, self-exorcism-”

“Woah, hold on there,” Barbara said. “So we have the right to visit our graves! How do we do that?” 

“Flip to the index,” Lydia said. Adam flipped to the back of the book. 

“Okay, graves, graves, here it is!” Adam said. “Page eighty-six.” He flipped all the pages back and scanned for eighty-six. As soon as he found it, he skimmed the page and said. “Alright, apparently to go to our graves, we have to say this incantation, and we’ll be transported to our gravesite.” 

“What’s the incantation?” Barbara asked. 

“Well, I’m not gonna say it now, Babs! I don’t want to go there right this second,” Adam said, setting the Handbook down on the bed. 

“Oh, oh, if you guys go, can I come with?” Lydia said. “I did all my homework, and my laundry is done, and my room is neat, so I have nothing to do today. Please?” 

Barbara got up to give Adam a kiss and put her arms around him. “Only if you ask Delia. She might have some Sunday afternoon chores for you.” 

Lydia rolled her eyes and opened the door to the staircase. “Fine,” she said, and she went down the stairs. 

“All set?” Barbara asked as Lydia put on her lighter black jacket. Thank goodness it wasn’t that cold today.

“Yeah. Delia said I could go with you guys as long as we get home before five,” Lydia said. 

Adam flipped through the Handbook, turning to page eighty-six. He looked over the incantation one last time. “That should be fine,” he said. “This is just a test run anyway. Hopefully we’ll be able to leave off the location of the graves and be able to walk through town, but we won’t try that today.” 

“Yup!” Barbara said, stopping kissing Adam’s cheek. “Alright now, let me read the incantation, sweetie.” She grabbed the book from Adam and propped it up in front of her, on the bureau. 

“Hands?” She said. Adam grabbed her right hand, and Lydia’s gloved hand took her left. 

Barbara took a deep breath, then spoke loudly and clearly, saying, “Ad corpus meum.” 

A green light enveloped them, and when it faded, they were standing in the sunlit Winter River cemetery, in front of an aging marble mausoleum. 

“Gosh, are we actually outside?” Barbara said, holding her arms up to feel the breeze and the warm sunlight dance along it. “It’s been months since I’ve been in the sunshine!” She twirled along the grass, hand in hand with Lydia, eventually stopping to collapse on the cold ground, re-experiencing the tickling of grass on the skin. 

The unusually pleasant winter weather didn’t even phase Adam. He stood in his exact same spot, examining the mausoleum in front of him. It was an aging structure, even though it had only been built in the past ten years. “MAITLAND” was inscribed in the marble at the top, but the lettering was hard to see as dirt and leaves had built up in it. 

“Is your whole family in here?” Lydia asked, walking toward Adam. 

“No,” Adam said. “They’re in that huge one over there.” Adam pointed to the far right and Lydia could see a towering marble structure in the distance. 

“Why aren’t you guys buried with them?” 

“Before we died, even long before Cheryl died, we decided that we should have our own mausoleum. We didn’t identify with the Maitlands, or the Winters - whose equally as huge structure is to your left - so we wanted a place of our own,” Adam explained. 

Lydia ran her fingers along the iron door handle. “Can we go in?” She asked. 

“Why not? Come on, Babs, we’re going in!” Adam called. Barbara looked up from digging her hands in the hard ground, and quickly got up, following her husband. 

Adam pulled on the heavy door handles and the doors creaked open, revealing a small room. 

As she walked in, the first thing Lydia noticed was how dark it was. Yes, it was three in the afternoon in the winter, but there was very little light in the room at all. Two little windows let a very small bit of light in, but most of it came from a huge stained glass window directly in front of the entrance. It was a huge piece, maybe as tall as Lydia, and it depicted a family holding a baby in their arms. Beneath the window was a small coffin covered with a pink blanket, and a kneeler. 

Lydia definitely noticed all that, but decided in the best interests of this being a good outing, she’d better not comment. Instead, she turned to see the two stone coffins on either side of the room, covered with picture frames and flowers. One was inscribed with “Inseparable in Life,” and the other read “Inseparable in Death.” 

“Are these where you guys are?” She asked. 

“Yeah,” Barbara said, a bit astounded. She grabbed a picture frame from off the coffin on the left. It was a photo of her at her wedding, toasting a glass of champagne with her maid of honor, her cousin Jane. 

Adam was equally as astounded. Pictures covered his coffin as well, many of them childhood photos of him and his sister, Amber. 

“Babs, do this many people care about us?” Adam asked, continuing to look through frames. 

“I guess so,” Barbara whispered. She turned over a photo to see a message scrawled on the back, written in loopy, rushed handwriting that Barbara easily recognized as Jane’s. Most of the messages she discovered were about Jane’s personal life and daughters, especially about her youngest, Skye. Barbara could picture it - Jane stopping here on her way home from work at the hospital, writing messages to Barbara like how she used to call her just to chat before…..life happened. Except now Barbara couldn’t respond back. 

A Christmas card with the two Butterfield girls on it was the most recent thing that Jane had left. It read, 

“𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘢, 

𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴! 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘮𝘢𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦. 

𝘚𝘬𝘺𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳! 𝘚𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰, 𝘐’𝘮 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘐𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦. 

𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘬𝘺𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘞𝘙𝘏𝘚’ 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘜𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘦, 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣, 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘦; 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴. 

𝘑𝘢𝘯𝘦”

Barbara began to tear up. Jane, well, was not the best in life. Jane bought into all that John and Doris Maitland had spoon-fed the community after Cheryl Winter’s death: that Barbara was a depressed spinster who lived all alone on her family’s decaying estate, because the reign of the Winter family was finally over. It was only after she married Adam did Jane warm up to her and become a friend. They grew even closer as they both discovered they were pregnant at the same time. But, when Cheryl died, Jane mysteriously got distant and didn’t want Barbara around. It made Barbara feel unwanted by her only living family, and she soon cut off ties with her cousin altogether. 

“I’m taking these home,” Barbara said, putting all the pictures and cards into a pile. “How about you, honey?” 

Adam turned around. “I don’t think I’m taking mine home. It’s just pictures of me and Amber pretty much.” 

Lydia cut into the conversation. “I think I’m gonna wait outside,” she said. “You know, give you a few minutes to yourselves.” She hopped off the stairs and walked around the side. Lydia could tell that this moment was becoming more personal and she didn’t want to intrude. 

As soon as Lydia left, Adam walked over from his side of the room to the center. He placed his hand on the pink blanket, slowly pulling it off the stone coffin. In the stone was inscribed a simple poem, by Mary Elizabeth Frye, that Adam had read in high school and tearfully remembered as he had placed Cheryl in this very room only nine years ago, 

“𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘱,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱.  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸.  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩  
𝘖𝘧 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘪𝘳𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.  
𝘋𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘺,  
𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘦.”

“I did not die,” Adam echoed softly, tracing his fingers along Cheryl’s name.

Barbara slowly walked up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder and the other one on the coffin. “I still can’t believe this might not be her,” she whispered. “This might not be my baby.” Barbara’s voice cracked, and she tried to hold it together. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Adam said as he put his hand over Barbara’s. 

Barbara took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, hon, I promise, we will visit Presley. Now that you told me, I want to, need to know the truth.” She turned to face Adam who met her with a concerned look. 

“Are you sure? If you’re not ready, Babs, we don’t have to go,” he said. 

“No,” Barbara said, turning away from Adam to face the door and the slowly darkening night sky. “I need to go. I need to know, Adam. I need to know whether this, this poem is true. Whether she ‘did not die.’” She gulped as she said that last sentence. 

It may have not been apparent to Adam, but it was starting to become clearer to her. Things that Barbara never thought of were starting to add up and she wished, she prayed that she was wrong with her hunch. As much as she wanted to find her daughter, she didn’t want it to be true. 

There was only one other baby born at Union Hospital on December 20, 2010, and Barbara stared at her smiling face on the front of the Butterfield family Christmas card. 

Barbara grabbed the card and the stack of photos and tucked them under her arm. She couldn’t look at Skye’s face any longer; any moment now, she would break down and she couldn’t do that yet. Not until she knew that her daughter was alive for certain. “Let’s go,” she told Adam, who was still reflecting upon Cheryl, staring up at the stained glass. 

“Alright,” he said, and followed her out of the mausoleum. As they walked down the stairs, they found Lydia wandering the graveyard, reading headstones. 

“We’re ready to go!” Barbara called to her, and she swiftly walked over to them, hopping between markers and flowers. She took their hands, helping Barbara to hold her pictures, and Barbara quietly said, “Ad domum meam.” 

Another green light enveloped them and they found themselves back in the attic. They could hear the clamoring of dishes downstairs and indistinguishable yelling. “Gotta go,” Lydia said as she dropped the Maitlands’ hands and she rushed down the stairs. “I forgot I have to help with dinner!” 

Barbara carefully placed her stack of papers and frames on the bed. “You run downstairs,” she told Adam, placing a hand on his back. “I’ll be down shortly.” 

“You sure?” Adam said. 

“Yeah, hon, I’m just gonna put this stuff and the Handbook away,” Barbara said. “And besides, it sounds like Delia needs all the help she can get.” Adam nodded reluctantly and started down the stairs. 

Barbara collapsed on the bed as soon as she heard Adam’s foot hit the hallway floor. She grabbed the Christmas card from the stack of pictures and held it tenderly in her hands. 

She touched Skye’s face with her fingers, tears rolling down her cheeks. What she had wanted for nine years of her life was hiding in plain sight. 

Maybe. 

She put down the card, wiped her tears with her arm, and got up. She put on a brave face, an “I’m OK” face. 

“I did not die,” Barbara whispered, and she walked down the stairs, ready to face dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, everything, everything happens for a reason. 
> 
> (And by that, I don't just mean the obvious stuff ;)


	13. Friend Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia goes out skating with Stella and realizations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! I'm sorry this wasn't up yesterday. I always feel bad when I don't stick to my schedule. :( I've been having a bad week (lots of homework and late nights) and just a really shitty day today. But I managed to put this out, so yay? (Yay!) 
> 
> This chapter is a break from our usual storyline of Barbara and Adam and may seem a bit boring, but I PROMISE you will look back at this chapter and be like "holy shit so much stuff was set up in this chapter" ;)) 
> 
> Love y'all and you guys really do make my day. When this week had me down, rereading your guys' comments and seeing all the kudos brightened my day :) 
> 
> The next chapter will be up on sunday-ish 
> 
> AJ

Why was it that clocks seemed to move at a snail’s pace whenever Lydia wanted time to just fly by? She sat in her last class of the day, absentmindedly staring out the window at the picturesque snowy landscape that awaited her as soon as the bell rang at two fifty-five. Why was it when she had something fun to do after school, the clock was dipped in molasses? 

“Can 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 tell me what a cation is? Don’t use up too much brain power. It’s not as hard as you think,” Ms. Kessler, Lydia’s old and decrepit chemistry teacher, croaked out. The woman was so ancient that Lydia bet she was glad that time didn’t fly. A few more seconds and the woman may as well be ashes already. 

The class sat for a few uncomfortable minutes until a hand went up - Stella Butterfield’s hand, to be exact. She sat perfectly in the front row, actually paying attention and enjoying honors chemistry. 

“Yes, Miss Butterfield?” Ms. Kessler said. 

“A cation is an ion with a positive charge,” Stella said, taking her perfect, pink scrunchie-clad hand down. Even the little ways she moved were graceful and sleek. Lydia couldn’t wait to see how fluid she was on the ice. 

Ms. Kessler opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the triumphant ring of the dismissal bell. The class charged out of the room with blatant disregard for whatever she was going to say, Lydia included. Who cares? It was a Monday and everyone wanted to be anywhere but school. 

Lydia briskly walked to her locker. It was only a few doors down from the chemistry lab, so she didn’t have to go far. After twisting her combination into the lock and opening it with a satisfying pop, the door swung open. 

Lydia’s locker was a miniature version of her room - it was covered in photos. There were so many taped on, you couldn’t even see the walls. She had pictures of the Maitlands, pictures of Charles and Delia, pictures of the Deetz family before they moved to Winter River. On the locker door were pics of school events and memories. There were backstage photos from when Lydia made the costumes for the fall musical, 𝘖𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘜𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘈 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. Her favorite was one of Stella as Winnifred, dressed in her swamp green dress. 

As Lydia reached for her backpack, one of the photos in the back fell. She reached down into the depths of her locker to pick it up, and took a moment to reminisce as she saw it. The photo was of her and Betelgeuse, dancing through the house after they had banished the dinner party guests. She had snapped a pic of them before they pranked the strangers at the door. Their smiles were plastered on their faces and Lydia’s heart almost, almost, ached to be back in that time. 

“Oh, Beej,” she softly said, placing the photo among the rest on the back wall. “I know I shouldn’t want you to come back, but things are getting so boring. I need my b-f-f-forever.” It was an unspoken, but pretty clear rule in the Maitland-Deetz household that Betelgeuse was not to be summoned. 

Lydia wished that there was a valid reason to break it. 

“Do you have your coat? And your hat in your pocket? And money for concessions?” Delia asked, frantically. They were supposed to leave the house fifteen minutes ago and it seemed like they were going to be late to the skating rink. 

“Yes, yes, yes!” Lydia said, hopping down the stairs with one shoe on, coat half off, all while trying to apply mascara. “I was trying to find Barbara and Adam to tell them bye.” 

Delia threw her Uggs on, careful not to kick over her potted plant by the front door. “Oh, Lydia, they left for the Netherworld early this morning. They’re visiting Presley today, remember.” 

“Crap, you’re right,” Lydia said. She got her other shoe on and grabbed the keys from the ring. She held the keys in her mouth as she zipped up her coat over her black sweater and skirt. “Bye Dad!” She managed to say from under the keys. 

Delia grabbed her poncho and threw it over herself. “Go, get in the car,” she told Lydia. “See you in a half hour Charles!” 

“Bye!” Delia faintly heard from the den, and she swiftly walked out and closed the door behind her, waiting to hear the click of the automatic lock. After the click sounded, she ran to the car and jumped in. 

“I started the car, Delia,” Lydia said. She sat in the passenger seat, flicking on the heat and buttwarmers. 

“Good, good,” Delia said. She accelerated and raced down the driveway onto the street. “That’s a great start for drivers ed this spring.” As soon as they hit the road, Delia calmed down and slowed her speed. The skating rink was only five minutes away after all. They wouldn’t be that late. 

“Thanks for taking me,” Lydia said. She looked up from her phone and stopped texting Stella. “It means a lot.”

“Of course, Lydia! I thought this would be a great opportunity to really make a lasting, meaningful relationship with someone, and as a life coach first and foremost, I cannot let someone pass that opportunity up,” Delia said, looking away from the road quickly to see Lydia’s face. It was one of a bit of skepticism and confusion. “Also, because I love you,” Delia added, “and you can’t be skeptical of that.” 

Lydia let out a tiny chuckle and went back to texting Stella. “Stella says to just drop me off and she’ll open the gates to the rink. Her dad got us in after hours, so it’s just gonna be me and her, under the stars. And fluorescent lights. ” 

Delia smiled. “Wow, that sounds romantic,” she said. “Kinda like a date.” 

Lydia went red and immediately said, “No, no, no, no, no. We’re friends, Delia. Just friends.” She felt like her organs dropped into her gut and was like a deer stuck in the beams of Delia’s headlights. 

“I’m sorry,” Delia said, a bit embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to assume, it’s just that she, well, seems like a nice girl. A girl that’s good enough for mine right here.” 

“Um, yeah, she is very nice,” Lydia said, getting redder and redder. 

“Her aura is wonderful, too.” 

“Well, Delia, I wouldn’t know about that.” 

“It’s true!” She said, pulling into the rink’s lot. “It’s a beautiful shade of pale orange, and it compliments her through and through.” 

Lydia could see Stella waving through the gates. “I think she sees us,” Lydia said, and began to unbuckle her seatbelt. 

“Alright,” Delia said. “Enjoy your time! Call me when you want to get picked up or at least before nine. And tell Stella hello from me.” 

“Of course,” Lydia said with a smile. “Thanks! I love you.” Lydia hopped out of the car and closed the door, running to meet Stella behind the gates. 

“I love you too!” Delia called, heart beating as she was surprised with such a sweet statement from her soon-to-be-stepdaughter. But by the time she had called it out to her, Lydia was already in the rink. 

Stella had been skating circles around Lydia for the past half hour, and the hour before that. It took a solid fifteen minutes for Lydia to figure out how to stand on the ice, and then another twenty on how to move. They talked as they skated, and while that might’ve sounded like they were never able to talk at all, Stella was so fast that by the time Lydia had asked her a question, she was back around to answer it in fifteen seconds. This was how they spent the first hour. After getting tired of continual falling, they stopped for cocoa, only to get back out there after a twenty minute break and continue skating - and falling - some more. 

How was it that ice skates seemed to be a second pair of feet for Stella? She glided gracefully along the ice, never faltering in her step, whereas Lydia fell every two minutes. Thank God they were here after hours. 

“Wanna hand?” Stella asked, circling back to help Lydia up off the ice. She held out her hand for Lydia, who took it and shakily got back up on her feet. 

“Thanks,” Lydia said. “How on Earth are you so graceful? I feel like I’m walking on the edge of the world.” 

“Oh, I play hockey,” Stella said, keeping hold of Lydia’s hand for balance and subsequently causing Lydia’s stomach butterflies to go haywire. “I’ve played since I was five, and kept doing it all the way into high school.” 

“So you’re the only girl on the team that I hear everyone talking about,” Lydia said. She was shaking again, not from the cold or the skates, but from the fact that she was with the person beside her. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Stella said with a shrug. “People always find it so funny that I’m the only girl on the team. God, I always get the jokes how I could have ‘whatever guy I wanted’ since I’m with all the dudes all the time. Ugh.” 

“Why ‘ugh?’” Lydia asked, against her better judgement. She was hoping for an answer that she knew was next to impossible. 

“I just think it’s silly,” Stella said. “I could have any girl I wanted, too. Someone I could woo with my skating abilities.” She let go of Lydia’s hand and skated to the center of the small rink, basked in the fluorescent lights. She skated a few figure eights and did a small jump. 

Is she “wooing” me? 

She can’t be. 

No. 

Stella skated back to Lydia and took up her hand. She slowly took her to the middle of the rink, and looked her in the eye. 

“I’ve been waiting to ask you this for a long time. I met you through photography club, and I was enthralled. I wanted to get to know you better, but you were so mysterious. I liked that you didn’t give a fuck and wore black and was this quiet, gothy girl who was unabashedly herself. It was a small miracle that you did costuming for 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴, because it gave me an excuse to know more about you. Then, unrelated to meeting you, I made a huge self discovery that October - I’m bi. So my friendly fascination with you became a minor crush. My main point is on this friend outing, if you are okay with it and feel the same way, I’d like this to become a girlfriend outing.” Stella looked at Lydia with eagerness and hopefulness. 

Lydia fell. She fell right onto the ice. She just let go of Stella’s hand and fell. 

This was what she was waiting for. Even though she didn’t recognize it until long after the musical, she was in love with Stella Butterfield from the moment they met on that fateful August day in photography club and now they could be in love together. 

“Yes,” Lydia said, quietly. “Yes, I would like this to be a girlfriend outing.” A huge smile crept onto her face. 

Stella jumped up in a cocktail of wonder, shock, happiness, and excitement, causing her to fall as well. They were both sprawled on the ice, giggling messes. 

“So how long did you know?” Stella asked. 

“Know what?” 

“That you were gay? Or bi, or pan?” 

“Umm, I didn’t really know,” Lydia confessed. “See, you’re the first person I liked like that.” 

“Really?” Stella asked. “There was no one before me?” 

“No girls, definitely no guys. There was something about you, and it took me a while to realize it. It took talking about you nonstop until mid-November to realize what I had was a crush on you. But I never said anything because I thought you didn’t like me like that. Plus, I didn’t want my family to know.” 

Stella got up and held a hand for Lydia. She took it and got up as well. “Your parents don’t know then,” Stella said. 

“Yeah, they don’t…..will that be a problem for you?” Lydia said, kind of nervous. 

“No, of course not! We just have to be careful, at least until you come out to them.” 

Come out. 

Oh shit. 

“Yeah,” Lydia said, nerves beginning to bundle up in the pit of her stomach. As much as she’d like to keep skating for another hour, the thought of "coming out” was beginning to eat at her from the inside. Lydia knew that if she stayed, she’d continue feeling horrible and not enjoying this at all. “Can I, uh, call Delia? I think she’d want me home now.” 

“Sure,” Stella said. “I kinda want to get home a little early too. Gotta start that lab report for Kessler, right?” She started to skate to the exit.

“Yeah, sure,” Lydia said, waddling to the exit as well. Coming to terms with who she was with Stella was electrifying - she finally felt honest with her, and in the absolute best way possible. But now, that honesty with Stella had created a secret with Lydia’s family.

What will Barbara think? 

What will Adam say? 

What is Dad gonna think? 

How would she even start that conversation? Would she just say, “Hey Delia, I’m gay.” Hell no. 

Lydia crammed her other shoe on her foot as her call to Delia’s cell phone rang. It took two rings to pick up and as soon as she heard a breath, Lydia quickly spat it out before her common sense could stop her. 

“Hey Delia, I’m gay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will catch up with Barabra and Adam on Sunday ;)) 
> 
> And maybe someone else?? 
> 
> OooOOOooooo


	14. Keep That Shit In The Netherworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara and Adam go to visit Presley together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to fuck around and post a day early. :)) I still might post on Sunday evening too, so just watch out. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty good, I think it sets up for a lot of stuff and fulfills a lot of stuff. (It also sets up our main conflict of season 4, so that's that)
> 
> Nothing much else, so just enjoy!!! 
> 
> (Also: thanks for 1500+ hits and 100+ kudos!!!) (✿◠‿◠)
> 
> AJ

It was still dark and dreary when the Maitlands rose to leave for the Netherworld. The sky was a deep blue and the sun had not yet risen. While it was a pain to get up this early, it was important to make sure they had enough time to visit with Presley. 

“Adam, hon, get up,” Barbara said sleepily, hitting her husband over the head with a pillow. 

Adam slowly stirred and took the pillow out of Barbara’s hand. “Yeah, Babs, I know.” He sat up straight and put the pillow back where it belonged. 

The bed creaked as Barbara stood up. She stretched out and started to pull the covers up. “We gotta hurry, sweetie. If your calculations on the time differences between here and the Netherworld were correct, we have exactly an hour and twenty minutes to be in there and get out by dinner.” 

“I know, I know. I’m hurrying,” Adam said. He got up and made his side of the bed as well. 

Then started a flurry of motion. The couple raced around the attic, getting things ready. They had a tote bag open and they threw things in it as they passed by - Cheryl’s birth certificate, books for Presley, their Handbook. It may have been a trip for at most an hour and a half, but it was better to be prepared. 

“Do we have everything?” Barbara asked as she took the bag from off the edge of the bed. “Did you pack the birth certificate?”

“Yeah, and death certificate too,” he said. “Want me to knock?” Adam stood ready at the door, waiting to enter at Barbara’s command.

Barbara took a deep breath. The next time she would be in the attic, she’d know one of two things - whether Cheryl was alive or not. And if she was alive, the hunt for her was on. 

She didn’t think they’d have to go far. 

“Go ahead,” she said, and Adam knocked on the door three times. An electric green glowed from behind it and it creaked open. 

They entered in. 

The waiting room seemed emptier than it normally did. Only a few usuals sat in the darkened corners, lurking in the shadows. They did what they always did - drank, did drugs, do whatever they did to numb the looming sense of death on their minds. 

“Barbara! Adam!” Argentina exclaimed upon seeing the Maitlands walk in. She sat behind the desk, absentmindedly organizing the millions of pens she had. The Maitlands coming would probably end up as the highlight of her day. “What brings you back down here?” 

“We came to visit Presley,” Adam said. He smiled wide, already extremely excited, and he hadn’t even seen the teen yet. 

“Of course, of course. Would you like me to call for her?” Argentina asked. 

“That’d be wonderful, thank you,” Barbara said, and Argentina got up to find the teen. Barbara readjusted the tote bag on her shoulder. The door next to the counter opened, and she followed Adam into the office space. 

They waited by the door until Presley arrived. She had a pleasant smile and seemed almost excited that the Maitlands were here. 

Barbara dug into the tote bag they brought, pulling three books out of there. “These are some books I got for you. I hope you enjoy them,” Barbara said as she handed the stack to Presley. The girl nodded and tucked them under her arm. 

“Thank God you guys came,” she said. “We were in the middle of a conference on how our new Head plans to ‘connect’ with the younger generation here, and I swear, if I had to hear him say something was ‘totes yeet, yo’ in his British accent one more time, I was gonna exorcise myself.” 

“Oh wow,” Barbara said. “Sounds...interesting.” 

“‘Interesting’ doesn’t quite cover it. I’d use ‘insane’ or ‘psychotic’,” Presley said. “But how are you guys? Why’d you come?” 

“Well, we came to talk about the information you disclosed to me the last time we met,” Adam said discreetly. “The information on Cheryl.” 

Presley’s eyes lit up. “Yes! That information. Follow me to my desk, and I’ll look it up.” She led the Maitlands through the winding maze to her desk. Most of the usually bustling room was gone at the conference; a testament to just how many of the younger generation was down there. 

Presley jumped behind her desk. Barbara pulled up chairs and they sat across from her. 

“What is your daughter’s name?” Presley asked, typing away at the computer. 

“Cheryl Maitland,” Barbara said, speaking clearly. Her heart was pounding, and she gripped onto the chair’s armrest. 

“Spell that please,” Presley said. 

“C-h-e-r-y-l M-a-i-t-l-a-n-d,” Barbara spelled. She held her breath as Presley typed the name in and clicked for results. 

The anxiety and anticipation was practically killing Barbara. She was so close to knowing something she thought she already knew. She was either wrong or right, and quite frankly, she didn’t know which one she wanted more. 

If Cheryl was really dead, plain and simple, she’d be a squirmy, half hour old baby living somewhere in the Netherworld. It was possible to find her, but it was still a loss. Barbara'd never get to watch her grow up, and if she took her home to the Deetzes’, it would be like eternally caring for a newborn. 

If Cheryl was alive, that opened up a whole new realm of possibilities. Where was she? Who did she think she was? Would it even be possible for the Maitlands to find her? Who knows. This was also a loss as well. Cheryl would be nine by now. Barbara wouldn’t get to watch her grow up either, as she already missed half of it. 

Either way, she lost. 

Unless. 

“I’m so sorry,” Presley finally said, reading through the results on her screen. “I have a result for a ‘Cheryl Maitland.’” She looked up to the couple with a heavy heart and a saddened expression. 

Adam mouth dropped open in shock. “What, no. No. No! She’s alive, I know it. I can feel it!” He stammered, and then stopped, slumping down into his chair. 

It was a loss. 

Barbara stayed silent. She didn’t move or let the breath she was holding in out. It felt so...wrong. Anticlimactic. It couldn’t be. As much as she wanted that to be the answer, every cell in her brain screamed, “Wrong!” 

“Read through the whole result,” Barbara said. “I want to hear the whole thing.” 

Presley looked back down to her screen and read the tiny font. “Cheryl Maitland, born 1937-” She stopped and looked up, back at the couple. “That’s not your Cheryl.” 

“That’s not our Cheryl!” Adam said, louder and smiling. “And that’s the only result?” 

“No others,” Presley said with a huge smile gracing her face. “As she is not in our database of the deceased, I can definitively say that your daughter is alive and out there somewhere.” 

Adam was elated. His face glowed and Barbara knew that he wasn’t this happy in a long time. “Yes!” He said, pumping his fist into the air. He was like a seven year old getting a new toy - happy beyond all definitions of the word. It suited him well. 

Barbara kept her composure. She did not cheer or pump her fist in the air. She smiled and looked happy. 

On the inside, she was shattered. This was supposed to be good news. She was supposed to be excited, elated just like Adam, but she couldn’t be. Not when she knew exactly who was and wasn’t dead. 

Now she just had to tell Adam, and soon. If she didn’t say it now, she felt that she would explode.

“Thank you so much, Presley,” Barbara said. “I know that Adam would like to stay longer, but I think that the best interests of all of us, we’d better head home.” 

“What?” Adam said. “But I thought that we were gonna talk more-”

Barbara shot Adam a death stare. “We are going to go, so Adam, get a head start and leave.” 

Confused, Adam got up and slowly made his way to the front. Barbara watched as he left and then turned to Presley. 

“Can you look up another name for me? Skye Butterfield, S-k-y-e B-u-t-t-e-r-f-i-e-l-d,” Barbara said hastily. 

Presley punched the name in and then clicked the search button. “Skye Butterfield, born December 20, 2010? Died the same day?” She asked, reading the singular result. 

Barbara felt, yet again, as if everything stopped. 

No. 

Jane, she wouldn’t. 

Jane was nothing but kind. 

She wouldn’t do that. 

Would she? 

Barbara blinked a couple times to keep the tears in and nodded. “Yeah, that’s the one,” she said. “She’s my niece, I guess. Her and Cheryl were born the same day. Only problem is, while I believed Cheryl was dead, Skye’s alive.” 

“Obviously, she’s not,” Presley said. “She couldn’t be, this database is updated as people die, and not updated by anyone. It’s automatic.” 

“Tell me I’m crazy,” Barbara said, slowly opening the floodgates. “Tell me I’m crazy to think that my cousin switched our babies. That she took our babies and left me to grieve over her daughter instead, believing it was my own and my own fault. It’s nuts! I know, but I can’t help this nagging feeling telling me that the living Skye Butterfield is my daughter. There were only two babies born that day in Union Hospital - mine and hers! Why would Jane do that? She was nothing but nice and kind after I married Adam and we were close. Why would she switch our babies? Why? God, I’m nuts. I’m just overreacting, aren’t I?” Barbara rambled on, and Presley put a hand over hers. 

“You’re not crazy. You’re not overreacting. That’s completely plausible, and I can see why you don’t want to believe it. You and your cousin were close, and all the evidence points to a switch, but knowing how she was prevents you from believing she could do such a horrible thing. I get it. But guess what? You’ll never know. So it’s best to put it aside, and live with the comfort of knowing that you don’t have to feel guilty anymore. Cheryl is alive and out there, living a wonderful life,” Presley said. 

Barbara nodded, knowing that she would not live with that comfort. She’d only be comforted as soon as she heard whether Skye was Cheryl or not, straight from the mouth of Jane. So never. 

Instead, Barbara simply thanked Presley and walked away to the door, catching up to Adam. The room was starting to fill and it seemed as through whatever conference they had was over. 

“Finally here?” Adam said, picking at his fingers. He stood aimlessly next to the waiting room door. The desk next to it was empty; Argentina was nowhere to be found. Barbara could tell that Adam was less than thrilled to cut their meeting with Presley short, but he could live mad about it. She had to spill to Adam this revelation, and the comforts of home seemed the most appropriate.

“Sorry, hon, I had to ask Presley something,” Barbara said, opening the door to the waiting room. “When we get back home, I have something to tell you. I think I know who-”

“Leaving so soon?” A crisp British voice swiftly cut Barbara off, and the couple turned around to see a slightly snakish man standing in the middle of the walkway. 

“Who are you?” Barbara asked, hoping her voice didn’t falter. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. We’ve never had the chance to get properly introduced. I’m Cassander, the new Head of the Netherworld,” he said. His slit pupils flitted between the Maitlands, and Barbara couldn’t shake the feeling of being a field mouse staring down a rattlesnake. “And you are the Maitlands?” 

“You would be correct,” Adam said. He held Barbara’s had tightly, squeezing it to the point where she was sure that her hand was turning purple. 

“And why did you grace us with your presence today?” Cassander said, overly saccharine. 

“We had a meeting with one of your civil servants. We didn’t quite understand a passage in the Handbook, so we sought some guidance from one of the workers,” Barbara said, putting the confidence back in her voice. She wasn’t about to let some demon make her seem weak. She had dealt with Betelgeuse for fuck’s sake. She could handle some Satan-wannabe. 

“I’m glad to hear that. It’s nice that not 𝘢𝘭𝘭 of my patrons are wasting my workers’ precious time.” Cassander glared at them. It was apparent that he knew of their encounters with Presley and did not approve.

“Of course not. We’d never waste time,” Adam said, puffing his chest out. Barbara could swore he made his voice deeper too. What a nerd. 

Cassander continued to glare at them, and then continued. “I’d be careful the next time you come for...guidance.” He turned around and promptly walked back down the walkway, causing civil servants to veer out of his way. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Barbara quickly whispered, and they practically ran out into the waiting room, and then the attic. It was already dark in there, and she knew that they must've been in there all day. She slammed the door behind her. 

Keep that shit in the Netherworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh
> 
> Cassander is prolly one of the most complex characters I've done (and you'll defs see that later), but I still detest him 
> 
> (⊙△⊙✿)


	15. There's A Lot To Unpack Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara and Adam unpack everything that happened to them in the Netherworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter again because inspiration and motivation hit me at the same time. This chapter gives us our first inkling of that crossover I hinted at before. ＼(*^▽^*)/ 
> 
> Challenge to you while you're reading: try to figure out where Amber works. I promise, it's not that hard. ;) 
> 
> Again, I want to post one more time before I go back to school on Tuesday. Hopefully I can, but if not, expect the chapter to arrive mid-week. 
> 
> Please enjoy and keep sending your feedback!! I love you guys!! 
> 
> AJ

“Woah,” Barbara said, tossing the tote bag onto the bed. “There’s a lot to unpack here.” 

Adam collapsed onto the rocking chair next to the bed. “Yeah, tell me about it, Babs. Too much to unpack.” 

“Who was that man?” She asked. Barbara reached over Adam to turn the lamp on and then sat down on the bed near him. 

“See, I don’t exactly know,” Adam said. “Presley mentioned him when I went down there on Christmas, but it might have been a misunderstanding. See, we were in Juno’s office. I made a remark on how I knew her son. Then she went into a rant about how Juno’s son, who I assume is this Cassander, is a major dickwad that overworked them. I figured she wasn’t talking about, well, you-know-who, because I don’t think that he’s running the Netherworld. I guess Juno has two sons.” 

“What else did Presley say about Cassander?” Barbara asked. 

“Nothing much besides that he’s worse a person than her mother. It’s obvious that the majority of civil servants there must not like him.” 

“Well, it’s also obvious that he’s up to us about Presley. Did you see the way he looked at us? He knows something, and he’s probably going to do anything he can to stop us from taking her,” Barbara said determinedly. 

Adam’s eyes lit up. “You, you mean you’re down for it? To adopt Presley?” 

“I think that as long as she agrees, and the Deetzes agree, it is more imperative than ever that we adopt her. That man is vile, and I only knew him for a few seconds. Imagine working for him! I could never stay here knowing that poor girl has to deal with him,” Barbara said. 

“Barbara, Barbara thank you,” Adam said, gripping her hand tight while he smiled tighter. “We need to save her, and now we can.” 

Barbara wriggled her hand out of Adam’s iron grip and put it gently on his. “Hold on, sweetie,” she said. “Before we discuss getting the daughter we never had, we need to discuss the daughter we do have. Cheryl.” It took great effort to even say her name, but Barbara pressed onward. 

“Adam, now that we know that she is definitively alive, I think I already know where she may be,” she continued. “I had this epiphany yesterday, and then something Presley told me sealed the deal on it.” Barbara kept her hand on his and looked him dead in the eyes. 

“Where? Where is she?” Adam said. Both their voices were somber and the low light in the room only amplified the sense of dread Barbara felt in the pit of her stomach. 

Barbara gulped and took a deep breath. Suppressing this any longer would make her explode from the inside out, but it felt like vomiting - she was so scared to do it even though she knew it would eventually make her feel better. 

“Well,” she started slowly, “I can say that on December 20, 2010, there were only two babies born in Union Hospital. One was Cheryl Maitland, at 5:25 A.M. The second was Skye Butterfield, at 5:34. Presley told me that while there is not a Cheryl Maitland, born in 2010 logged in her system, there is Skye Butterfield, born 2010, in their database,” The explosion in her chest was starting to swell, just like vomit inching up her throat. 

“No,” Adam said softly under his breath, almost whispering. 

Barbara nodded. “And you admitted it yourself, you were lost on your way to the nursery when they called my nurse down. That was ten minutes - enough time to switch. They were newborns, they looked alike, both were blonde, no one would notice. Worst of all, it was plausible - I had a turbulent pregnancy and it wouldn’t be a surprise if it ended in infant death. This may be circumstantial, but Adam, it feels right.” Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes and the pressure she involuntarily applied to Adam’s hand was making it red. 

“But why?” Adam said, not breaking the whisper. “Why would she do that? Jane, Jane was nothing but kind.” 

Saying her name was the gasoline that was thrown onto the explosion. “I don’t know,” Barbara said, getting louder with each syllable. “I don’t know! Why she would take my child and pass it off as her own is beyond my knowledge, and quite frankly, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know. It would have been easier to find out that Cheryl was with some random family across the country, but this? I can’t handle this.” She took her hand off Adam’s and rolled onto the bed, curling up to face the opposite side. 

“Barbara,” Adam said. He got up from the chair and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair. “We should take this slow. It’s already ten o’clock. It’s late. Let’s talk about this in the morning.” 

Barbara let the tears roll down her cheeks and stain Adam’s pillow. “She’s my cousin,” she repeated over and over with a dull ache in her voice. Each repeat felt like the stinging of her throat. She had vomited all this up in hopes of feeling better, but what it did was poison her insides and leave her with the aftertaste of treachery. 

The words slowly softened and then altogether stopped, but Adam kept rhythmically running his fingers through Barbara’s hair. He got up after he finally saw the steady rising and falling of her chest and her eyes closed. Careful as to not wake her, Adam got up and walked around the bed to the doorway to the downstairs. Hopefully Delia was still awake, and he could catch up on what they missed during the day. 

As soon as Barbara heard Adam start to walk down the stairs, her eyes fluttered open. She rolled over to face the other side of the room and pulled open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. Inside were stored all the photo frames and cards that were left at her grave by Jane. Barbara gingerly pulled them out. 

Most of the pictures were of her and Jane as children. They were little memories that she would have never remembered if not for the reminders right here - ice skating, play dates, Halloween. A few of the photos were of them as adults - some of Barbara’s wedding, one or two of them on double dates with Adam and Jane’s husband, Jason. Barbara flipped through the photos, focusing intensely on Jane. 

Barbara analyzed her in every photo she was in. Was the face of a giggling five year old in a fairy costume also the face of a woman who would steal another woman’s baby? 

God, Barbara was overreacting. 

This was ridiculous and she’d be over it in the morning.

Jane was a wonderful person who cared deeply about Barbara and would never break her trust. 

Would she? 

Barbara continued to flip through the frames and cards until she got onto one that she didn’t recognize. The photo was in a high school party setting, shitty basement with red solo cups and all. The main focus was a girl with long brown hair and tortoise shell glasses, posing next to Adam. She held up a peace sign and put bunny ears behind him. 

Amber. 

It was Adam’s younger sister, Amber. By all means, Barbara knew her as a nice girl. She was sweet and cute, and even though she was raised in a den of snakes, Barbara never remembered her as overly mean or rude to the Winters. If not for Amber being two years younger than Barbara, maybe she would consider the girl a friend, especially for giving Barbara an invite to her wedding, against her parents’ wishes. It was at her wedding that Adam and Barbara reunited at, eight years after high school. Essentially, Amber was the reason the Maitlands were together at all. 

Barbara flipped the picture over to find a half-sheet sticky note on it, dated December 11th. It read, 

“𝘈𝘥𝘢𝘮, 

𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘈𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵? 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵.

𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘢𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 As/Is 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘓.𝘈. 𝘈𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘭. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥. 

𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘔𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘓.𝘈. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥. 𝘕𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴. 

𝘐𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵. 

𝘐 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴. 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦. 𝘐’𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘈𝘱𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘰 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘎𝘰𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 

𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯. 

𝘈𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳”

Barbara’s mouth dropped open in shock. Amber coming to talk to Adam was fine. But ghost investigators coming to the house to 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮? To try to prove that the afterlife is real and so are the people stuck within it?

That’s every ghost’s worst nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going to double down HARD on some movie elements in the coming chapters ;))


	16. A Moment of Reflection(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia reflects upon her day and the things that occurred in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Last week was HELL. I'm sorry I didn't post at all, but I was getting ready to compete at state at a thespian conference, specifically at a monologue competition. I went to that competition this weekend, and I did pretty well! I earned an excellence ribbon, which basically means that on a scale of 1 to 4, I got all 3's or 3's and 4's from the judges. (I also met the writer and lyricist who wrote Broadway musicals like Sideshow and Pageant!!) :) But all that's over. Now I can focus fully on KUWTD!! 
> 
> I think this chapter gives us a unique look into Delia's mind OooOOoo
> 
> I hope to drop the next chapter tomorrow/Tuesday. ;) 
> 
> Also: I plan to update the end notes with this with something I've been wanting to do for a long time: fic recs! 
> 
> Love y'all and I really missed you guys T.T
> 
> AJ

Delia had quite a day. 

When she woke up that morning, it felt like just another in a long, long line of ordinary ones.

At exactly six, Charles rolled over to kiss her on the cheek and then got up and changed for a conference call in his office. She slowly got up as well, woke Lydia, and then went downstairs to make breakfast. 

By seven, there were three steaming mugs of coffee on the table and three plates of waffles beside them. Lydia took hers to her room so she could eat while doing her hair. Charles took his to his office, and ate alone up there while the rest of the company joined the call. Delia sat in the window seat as usual, alone, and looked into the woods as she swirled sugar into her own hot brew. 

At seven fifty, she started the car and Lydia got in, and drove her off to school. By eight ten, she was back at home, the rest of the dull day awaiting to be filled with something. She could try a new recipe, or meditate for the thousandth time, or attempt to get invested in whatever new shallow reality tv show that was sweeping the masses. Charles was not to be bothered while he worked, and for once, the Maitlands had left. She had the home to herself and Delia Schlimmer was not one to thrive on alone time. 

So she checked the mail. Delia unlocked the door and peeked her hand out, fumbling to grab the stacks of envelopes crowding the box. As soon as it was all retrieved, she shut the door and kept the cold out. Walking to the dining room table, she sorted through the pile. “Bills, bills, bills,” she said as she tossed one, two, three letters on the table. As she hit the fourth envelope and read the sender, she stopped dead in her tracks. 

“Charles, dear!” Delia called from the bottom of the stairs. “You’d better come down here!” She gripped the letter in her hand and tried to suppress her bubbling excitement. 

Heavy footsteps approached the office door, and it creaked open. “Yeah, Deals, what’s wrong?” 

“I want you to come see this letter!” Delia said with a little jump. 

“Sweetheart, I’m in the middle of this call, we’re negotiating this-” Charles tried to explain, but was cut off by his overeager fiancée. 

“It’s only going to take a minute!” She said, a bit more forceful. 

Charles sighed and made his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, Delia grabbed his hand and placed the letter in it. “Read it,” she said. 

Carefully opening the letter and handing the envelope back to Delia, Charles examined it. He unfolded it, and read what was in the body of the letter. As Charles read it through, Delia stared at him the whole time. 

“So these people,” Charles said, “they want to-”

“Investigate us!” Delia finished off, face drawn in awe. “Think back to the middle of this summer, when you went back to New York for that convention.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Well, we got a letter in the mail from these two ghost investigators. They said that they work with Adam’s sister, Amber, and that they all wanted to come here to investigate the house and the possibility of a haunting.” 

“So?” 

“I said yes!” 

“Um, Delia, what?” Charles said, handing the letter back to Delia. 

“I said yes! They’re coming in a week to film.” 

“Delia, do you know what effect this can have on our lives?” Charles said irritably. “Seriously, this could ruin the peacefulness here; I can’t believe you didn’t say anything-”

“They’re paying us for it,” Delia said, interrupting Charles. “A thousand dollars.” 

“What?” Charles said, flabbergasted. “A, a thousand dollars?” 

“It was initially two hundred, but I know how to negotiate,” Delia said with a sly smile. “I figured the only reason that this investigation would be good, besides press for your company, is the money. Imagine the wedding we could have!” The wedding was always something she could count on as bait to hook Charles in - besides starting his architectural modeling company, it was the most important thing on his mind. 

A huge grin spread on Charles’ face. “You’re damn right!” Charles said, starting to get excited as well. “You’re going to have the best damn dress ever!” He ran back up the stairs and back to the call, leaving Delia with a glint of bittersweet happiness in her eyes. She used the letter - this whole damn filming idea that fell into the palm of her hand, too - as a way to vie for the coveted prize of Charles’ attention, but again, she lost. 

Was this how Lydia felt? 

She did accept the thousand dollar bid for the money, but there was a more ostensible reason underneath it. Ghost hunters coming to their home was...exciting! Delia needed a bit of excitement in her life. The things that she once indulged in - decadent parties, orgies, the faux-upper class life in New York City - were no more. After leaving her wild life for a mild life with Charles, she was now a boring everyday woman in Connecticut who grocery shopped, drank sugary coffee overlooking the woods, and fit the bill of a housewife if it weren’t such a faux pas to be branded as one. She loved Charles and Lydia and their need for a normal life, but where was the excitement in that? 

And then Lydia. 

Oh, Lydia. 

When Delia picked up the phone after drying off from her salt bath, she never expected the first thing she would hear would be “Hey Delia, I’m gay.” It was surprising in the sense that she hadn’t expected it. At least expected it to be said so bluntly. 

Delia could tell that Lydia was head over heels for Stella from the first time she talked about the girl. Lydia raved on and on about her voice, saying that she sounded as if she was blessed by the angels. Comments on Stella became more and more frequent as the year progressed, but by about second quarter, they abruptly stopped. Delia had suspected why, but she didn’t want to press. Lydia would come out when she was ready to. 

Apparently that was in this phone conversation. 

Immediately after Lydia spoke, Delia responded with the first thing she thought of. “Hi gay, I’m your supportive life coach.” She then got really quiet as she heard the other side of the call quiet as well. The silence took up a few tense seconds until Delia heard Lydia’s soft giggles from the other side. 

“Thank God. Thank God for my kooky-ass Delia, who loves me no matter what,” she said quietly, still chuckling. “Stella asked me out, asked me to be her girlfriend. I said yes.” 

Delia squealed. “Ohmygosh Lydia! I’m so happy for you.” It was like watching a couple in a TV show get together - rooting for them for season upon season to finally see them get together. 

“I’m so happy too,” Lydia said. “But that’s not the reason I called. I, um, want to go home.” Her tone shifted to a more uneasy one, and that made something twinge in Delia’s gut. 

“Oh, ok, ok,” Delia said. “I just got out of the shower, I’ll be there in fifteen.” 

“Alright. I, uh, love you,” Lydia said. It wasn’t as convincing as before. 

Delia managed to hurry up and change, getting out of the house in eight minutes. The car ride to the rink wasn’t long, and in no time she was there. Lydia stood in front of the gates, holding hands with Stella. They let go as Lydia said her goodbye and walked to the car that awaited her. 

“She’s so cute,” Delia said as Lydia hopped in. 

Lydia stared out the window to watch Stella get in her dad’s SUV. “I know, isn’t she?” She said. 

Delia didn’t know what to say, or more accurately, she didn’t know what not to say. Everything with Lydia was so fragile - one wrong word and she’d spiral into hating you for days. They were finally on the same page and Delia didn’t want to rip that one out. 

The car ride continued in silence. They drove through the woody areas, the main street, finally going over the bridge and over the hill to reach the driveway. Before Delia could even turn off the car, Lydia said, “Don’t tell anyone what I told you or that I’m dating anyone.” 

“Sure, Lydia, you have my word, but if you’re scared I’m sure that Ad-” Delia began and was cut off. 

“No,” Lydia said, staring Delia in the eye. “I don’t want them to know yet. Or at all. Frankly, I probably shouldn’t have told you, but, here we are. Everything at home is good now, simple and boring. We’re over Emily. We’re getting along with the Maitlands. There’s no...interferences. I don’t want to ruin it. So you’re gonna keep this our secret. Promise?” Lydia took a deep breath and held out her hand to Delia. 

After a pause, Delia said, “Promise.” She grabbed Lydia’s hand and they shook. 

Reflecting on her day was a favorite pastime of Delia. It gave her something to do in the evening and helped her to find the “exciting” in her life. Even if that “exciting” was a deal at the store on fruit. Leaning over the island countertop, Delia absentmindedly picked at a crumb on the granite. She had just about gone through the main points of her day - the letter, the call, the car ride - when she heard footsteps on the stairs. 

“Delia, hey,” she heard Adam say, and she looked up and saw Adam in front of her. 

“Oh, hi,” she said. “Back from the Netherworld kinda late I see.” 

“Yeah, well it’s been a day,” Adam said, sighing. He leaned over the counter as well, facing her. 

“Tell me about it,” Delia said. 

“Tell me what happened to you.”

“Well, what happened to you? I’m sure you’ve got more interesting things to tell, with dead people and Presley and all.” 

“No, you first. I insist.” 

“Alright then,” Delia said. She paused before she spoke. She was going to uphold her promise, no doubt about that, but what was she going to say? 

Something not about Lydia. 

Something relevant. 

Something...exciting. 

“Your sister’s bringing ghost investigators next week,” she finally said, looking up just in time to see Adam collapse on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Recs! These will be on next chapter's notes :)


	17. A Loud Roar and A Soft Sizzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Delia discuss the ghost investigators.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short update :) It's a continuation of last chapter and I think gives us perspective on exactly what the Maitlands can do. 
> 
> Fic Recs are on the end notes for this chapter! They're just fics that I like and wanted to recommend. Some of them are written by my readers, some of them I WISH were my readers lol 
> 
> Love y'all and will prolly post on Thursday 
> 
> AJ

Delia rushed over to the other side of the counter to help Adam up. She held out a hand and he took it. 

“What do you mean, my sister? Ghost investigators?” Adam said, frantic. 

“Yes, Amber sent a letter over the summer asking if she could come visit the home with some work friends. Those friends also happen to be ghost investigators,” Delia explained. It was now starting to dawn on her, after two people had freaked out already, that this might not have been the best idea to accept. What could she do now? What was done was done. 

Adam let out a breath of relief. “Oh,” he said, leaning himself against the counter. “So they’re not like coming over to, like, investigate us. Just to attempt to chat with me and leave.” 

“Oh no,” Delia said. “They’re 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 investigating. A YouTube video, interviews, and whole night alone in the house, walking and trying to contact your ghost.” 

All the relief that Adam had for a minute was gone in an instant. “No, no, no!” He said. “They can’t investigate us! Do you know what this will do? This house will become sensationalized! Teenagers coming every night to try to spot me. Ghost investigators willing to pay thousands to try to catch Barbara on film. We’ll never get to live a moment in peace for the rest of your lives and our afterlives.” 

“I guess so,” Delia managed to add in, but Adam kept plowing along. 

“And to think of it, we’re already in hot water with the newest of the Shoggoths running the Netherworld. It’d be just fine and dandy for us to expose the afterlife as real and verifiably suckass and then get locked up by that snake of demon down there. But of course, what on earth made you think that inviting my 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 of all damn people would be a good idea? And letting her little friends come along too? God, Delia, do you even think?” 

Delia opened her mouth in shock but nothing came out. Adam had never yelled at her, or even yelled at all. It was so out of character. “I’m, I’m sorry. I just wanted a little fun,” she started to say. 

“Fun?” Adam shouted, staring her down. “You think that a ghost investigation is fun? Maybe for you because you’re not a ghost. We can’t leave! We would be trapped there with people who desperately want to find us, like a game of hide and go seek with the fate of the afterlife stacked in your hands. Just stuck watching these people waiting for you to do one paranormal thing so they can brag to all their pathetic friends that they found a ‘ghost.’” 

Adam was positively scary. He scowled at Delia and the air around him started to glow an electric red. A soft sizzle filled the air and before Delia could duck, a lightbulb in the ceiling shattered. The glass sprayed down and Delia was grateful that it exploded on the other side of the room.

The sizzling stopped and a dense silence filled the room. Adam stared at the spot where the bulb used to be, face drawn back in horror. “Did I do that?” He asked quietly. Delia nodded and kept a careful watch on Adam. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning away from the empty socket back to Delia. “I had a rough day with Barbara and upsetting news and demons who are out to get us and I’m at my breaking point. Obviously I broke. I’m sorry.” 

Delia snapped out of her one shock and grabbed the broom to sweep up the glass from the bulb. “No, Adam, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was hasty in my decision making and I didn’t consult with the people this mattered to. I can call and cancel if you’d like.” She swept the glass into a garbage bag and placed it gently in the sink. 

“Actually, can you wait on that?” Adam said, much to Delia’s surprise. “I want to talk to Barbara about it. See what she has to say.” 

“Of course, of course,” Delia said. “Would you like me to talk to her about it?” 

“No,” Adam said. “She’s having a rough night tonight. I’m giving her some alone time. I’ll see how she is in the morning.” 

“Really? What’s wrong?” Delia asked. She was hoping that Barbara was getting better - it seemed she was - and wondered what was sidetracking her now. 

“To put it simply, it’s her first time being betrayed by her family. Imagine that. Only being betrayed 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 you died.” Adam walked out the kitchen at through the dining room. She heard his footsteps go gently up the stairs and up the other flight as well. “Goodnight, Delia,”was the last thing she could make out Adam saying. 

The way Adam mentioned Amber rubbed Delia the wrong way. They way he talked about family betrayals felt abrasive too. He was hiding something. He had secrets of his own, and Delia was starting to catch on. She could only hope that if they did decide to stay for the investigation, Adam would talk to Amber. Fix things that glaringly seemed wrong. 

It was again, still quite a day - coming outs and ghost investigators, broken light bulbs and family betrayals. There was one thing that she couldn't say about today: it was boring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic Recs! 
> 
> The "Lydia Deetz Has Bad Mental Health" series by Violent_Bulldog. Fair warning, this series of fics deals with serious topics like homophobia and suicide. If you're comfortable with that, it is defs worth a read! 
> 
> In that same vein of topic, (and the same writer), I Tried To Save You... is absolutely wonderful and depressing. I actually CRIED cried when I read it. Again, it deals with suicide, so that's that. 
> 
> If you want a feel-good fic, consider Dumpster Juice by FreyedFabrics. Nothing makes me smile more than trans!Adam dating Barbara. :)) 
> 
> The texting fics by Betelgeusex3 are the perfect amount of crackhead for a creakhead like me. (Another crackhead fic is Musical Asks (bc I'm bored) by BroadwayFangirl) 
> 
> Literally anything by eggosandxmen. Their portrayal of the Netherworld was literally the basis for the Netherworld in KUWTD (specifically in everyone here is alone!) 
> 
> honey close your eyes (and stay like you're supposed to) by cryptidstxrs is like the BEST. 10/10 and is also what introduced me to all the cut songs. 
> 
> Life or Death by AmberAstra SLAPS. The entire thing is like one big reminder that BJ is a DEMON. He's not that sweet. He demands sacrifices. That's why I love that fic soooooo much. 
> 
> What I Know Now by LadyStrangeandUnusual was an odd read at first, but I got invested real fast. If you told me that I would one day (almost) ship Miss Argentina and Juno, I'd say you're nuts. Now.......maybe not. 
> 
> Why's she acting so strange? by when_the_planets_align is another fic that inspired me a lot. It was one of the first fics I read, and I loved it! It defs got me invested in the family dynamics of the house, which I would obviously harness in KUWTD. 
> 
> And of course, the fic that got me into reading this fandom, Home With You by Nekomata58919. It is one of the most successful Beetlejuice fics ever bc it's so damn good!! I aspire to be there, one day. ;) 
> 
> You can find all of these in my bookmarks, under recs!!!


	18. One Of The Seven Horrors Of The Modern World: The High School Cafeteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia has trouble fitting into her new spot on the social ladder after becoming "official" with Stella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!! A new chapter focusing on Lydia and Stella. It may seem out of the blue, but it's gonna give us a great tie in to the season finale. I predict 1/2 more chapters until I start the 3 part season finale ;)) (so that's a max 5 more chapters before the season is over) 
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this chapter lol  
> A lot of it is based on my own high school experience 
> 
> Also: I find it funny how people commented how they've never read a fic where Adam gets MAD mad. We are defs gonna explore that side of him and why he got so mad 
> 
> (Speaking of that, thanks for 70 comments!! Even though like half of those are mine lol) 
> 
> I got to add two new Lydia-age power players to this fic and I'm excited to hear your feedback on them!! 
> 
> The next chapter should be out Saturday/Sunday :)
> 
> AJ

Stella Butterfield’s eyes were blue. They were a deep blue with flecks of silver like a galaxy full of stars, and Lydia couldn’t help but notice them. She used them as a focal point as she was subjected to the greatest anxiety inducer of teenage life - lunch. 

After Lydia and Stella went “official,” (also known as walking down the hallway together), Lydia had been “upgraded” to the popular table. It was the table in the sweet spot between the lunch line and the door. All the fuckboys and whores sat there, along with jocks and preps - one drama-filled dysfunctional family. Stella felt right at home among these people she’d grown accustomed to. There was more of an adjustment for Lydia. 

“Hi Lydia!” One of the girls said. Her hair was up in a ponytail almost high enough to be on her forehead and her skirt was shorter than Lydia’s patience for her. She was a classic slut in her natural habitat - lounging over a jock’s arm. 

“Yeah, hi!” Another one said in the same fake high pitched voice as the other. The only difference between the first girl and this one was the fact that the second was on the beefy jock’s other arm. Both the sluts looked at her with dagger eyes and tapped their five inch nails against the table. 

Lydia looked down into her peanut butter and jelly sandwich and mumbled a hello. Even though she tried to be confident and assertive, this was precisely why she preferred to eat lunch in the drama teacher’s room: no socialization with the scum of the sophomore class. 

Next to Lydia, Stella was conversing just fine. She seemed deep in conversation with some of her oldest friends, Claire Brewster and Sebastian Cowler. 

“No, Seb, I’m telling you, the answer is B!” Stella said, pointing at Sebastian’s school-issued iPad. 

“Stella, I know you think you are one hundred and ten percent smarter than me, but for the love of God, the answer is obviously C!” Claire said. “That is NOT the electron configuration for a calcium ion.” 

“It has to be B!” 

“It’s not, Stella, and I know this because I found the worksheet’s answers online and it says number four is C!” 

“Can you please stop yelling?” Sebastian said. He yanked his iPad out of Stella’s hands and thrust it in front of Lydia. “What do you think, Lydia?” 

Lydia looked up from her food and phone in a sense of shock. “Um, me?” She said. The whole table turned to her and slowly began to laugh. 

“Yeah, of course you. Who was I talking to? Your ghost?” Sebastian said. 

“Oh, um, no. It’s me,” Lydia said, her stomach seemingly practicing for the 2020 Summer Olympics as it flipped and spun around. Where was her snark when she needed it most? 

“I thought so. Now what’s the answer: B or C?” 

Lydia took the iPad and stared down at the screen for a second, mentally tallying the energy levels. “Claire was right,” she said quietly. “It’s C.” 

“I KNEW IT!” Claire yelled and she pumped her fist in the air with her straighter-than-gender-reveal-parties cheerleader arm. If Winter River High ever needed a Skylar to do 𝘉𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘐𝘵 𝘖𝘯, they had one in the form of “queen bee” Claire Brewster. 

“Oh my God guys, see this is why I’m in honors. I’m smart,” Claire said in the most matter-of-fact way possible. If only Politifact was here. They’d give her a rating of “Pants On Fire.” Lydia was pretty sure that Claire didn’t qualify to be “smart” as long as she still used Slader for almost every homework assignment ever.

“Sure,” Stella said as she rolled her eyes. “Keep telling that to yourself, Claire. Maybe it’ll come true.” 

Claire glared at Stella from across the table and fired back. “At least I don’t have a B in Algebra 2. It’d be a 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦 if I had dyscalculia.” Stella looked up at Claire and went back to scrolling on Instagram. Lydia envied the way she could just ignore comments like that. 

If only Beej were here. 

Claire wouldn’t talk that much shit about me and Stella if we had him behind us. 

He’d sort Claire out right away. 

He’d say, “Who’s so smart now?” and put her on a Life or Death game show and watch her flounder and then eventually open a trap door to Saturn and she’d be gone forever to rot in a sandworm’s stomach. 

After the table erupted in various arguments and Claire yelling louder than all of them, Lydia retreated back to her phone and her thoughts. It seemed as though thoughts of Betelgeuse plagued her much more often than they did before. Now that she had this secret, she wanted someone to share it with. Someone who would support her. Someone who she didn’t fear was going to tell Charles or the Maitlands at any minute. 

Lydia missed his chaotic energy. She missed his raunchy sense of humor and his quite literally infectious laugh and the way he caused general mischief. As much as he was hurtful and harmful and didn’t understand consent, he was her b-f-f-f-forever. 

But, he needed to stay wherever he was. The Maitland-Deetz household was better off without him. Lydia needed to accept that because it wasn’t going to change. There would have to be some horrible, horrific, I’m-in-desperate-need-of-a-haunting situation for Lydia to summon him back. 

She would have to just wait.

So far, every day that week had played out in almost the same format - she would try to eat lunch without being interrupted, Sebastian and Claire and Stella would go at it, and then they would inevitably drag Lydia into the situation. On Friday, Lydia decided to change that. 

“Miss Adler?” Lydia called out as she walked into the theatre room with her lunch bag and books. “Can I eat in here today?” 

A short young woman emerged from behind a costume rack. “Hey Lydia!” She said, arms full of sequined dresses. “Of course you can eat here today. Come on to my office.” 

Lydia followed Miss Adler into her office and plopped down on one of the chairs. She set her books down and zipped open her lunch bag, grabbing a PB & J. 

“I was just getting some costumes for the Last Day Musical,” Miss Adler explained, draping the dresses over a cabinet. She turned around and sat down at her desk chair. 

“Oo!” Lydia said. “What’s it gonna be?” 

“Chicago!” Miss Adler said. “I’m very excited to showcase this to the whole school after finals! Auditions are next week. You should come!” 

“Me?” Lydia asked, semi-shocked. “I’m pretty content with sticking to costumes.” Lydia enjoyed letting her creations get a spot in the limelight, not herself.

“Who are you kidding?” Miss Adler said, taking a sip of her iced tea. “I’ve heard you sing in the back room while sewing costumes. You have a wonderful soprano! I better see you out there next Thursday auditioning for Roxie or Velma.” 

“Well, I don’t know…” Lydia said. 

Miss Adler set her iced tea down. “At least give it a try, okay? If you get cast and don’t want to do it, you can always back out. Just come, Lydia. We need good strong talent! We lost half our strong singers last year and I need sophomores like you and Stella to step up and lead our musical productions until you guys leave.” 

“Alright, alright,” Lydia said. “I’ll come.” Miss Adler smiled and took another sip. 

“Good,” she said as she nodded her head. A few moments of silence passed, and then she asked, “Why are you in here today?” 

Lydia sighed. “Well, I switched lunch tables. Now I sit with the popular kids, and it’s worth it because I get to sit with at least one person that’s bearable, but the rest aren’t. I got tired of listening to Claire Brewster yell, so I came in here.” 

“Ah,” Miss Adler said, “I get it. It was only a few years ago I was in high school too. Lunch sucks.” 

Lydia rolled her eyes and ripped the crust off her sandwich. “Tell me about it. The Claires of the world will never stop.” 

Miss Adler was about to open her mouth as the drama room door swung open. “Lydia?” Stella called into the room. 

Lydia jumped up and ran out of Miss Adler’s office. “I’m right here, Stella.” 

Stella met her in the middle of the room. “There you are! I was wondering where you went.” They took hands and Lydia pushed a fallen string of Stella’s hair back behind her ear. The messy bun she had was a little bit too far on the messy side. 

“Yeah, I came in here,” Lydia said as she tapped her foot on the ground. 

“Why?” 

“Um, well, I didn’t want to be in the cafeteria…..anymore?” Lydia said. She didn’t want to hurt Stella’s feelings but she also didn’t want to flat out lie. 

“Okay…” 

“It’s not you!” Lydia reassured her. “It’s just Claire, and Sebastian, and the jocks, and the cheerleaders, and it’s all too overwhelming. They’re just not my crowd, and to be honest, I’m only there because they’re your friends and you sit there.” 

Stella laughed. “My friends?” She said. “Oh boy, Lydia, they are 𝘯𝘰𝘵 my friends. I just happened to grow up with them, so we’ve stuck together. I sit there because I don’t want to sit alone.” 

Damn, she’s just like me. 

Only none of my childhood friends are here. 

“So you’re not mad that I ditched you?” Lydia asked. 

“Mad? Maybe mad because I hadn’t thought of eating in the drama room sooner!” Stella said. “As much as I’d 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 to go back and kick Claire Brewster off her high horse, let’s just stay here.” Stella took Lydia’s hand and they walked into Miss Adler’s office. 

“Can we stay?” Stella asked. 

Miss Adler chuckled and nodded. “Come here every day if you’d like.” 

The girls walked out of her office and made themselves comfy on the beanbags. Lydia ripped her sandwich in half and gave a chunk to Stella, and they sat and talked for the rest of lunch, giggling and gossiping and making lewd jokes in relation to the fake people at their old table. It was the most comfortable Lydia had been in a long while. 

Everything was perfect, perfectly infected with all things wonderful and Stella, to the point where even her Betelgeuse-related thoughts still circled back to her. 

Fuck, Beej would just love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claire is gonna become such a major character, just get ready y'all (◕‿-)


	19. Adam Maitland: The World's Biggest Salt Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam struggles with family and gets angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter!! This week I'm going to post a lot, and maybe start the three part finale. Two more regular chapters and then three parter!!! 
> 
> Adam is gonna get really salty and pissy in this chapter and beyond so be ready ;) I can't wait to explore his family life and past 
> 
> Also: this chapter is so short bc it's late af and I have to wake up early tomorrow so its kinda rushed hope y'all still like it ★~(◡△◕✿)
> 
> AJ

The house was in a bustle to get ready for the investigation, but there was no bigger bustle than what was going down in the attic. 

“Adam, your sister is literally coming in four days. You need to decide if we’re staying,” Barbara said. She was busy running between the door and the other side of the room, carting unwanted knick knacks to the corner of the attic. Delia had insisted that if people were coming over to showcase their house to the whole internet, the house had to be pristine. 

Adam laid in the center of the bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. “What do you want to do, Babs?” He said, lackadaisical. 

Barbara almost dropped the octagonal vase she was carrying. “Dammit, Adam, that response has gotten old after the ten times you’ve used it! I already told you, I don’t care. If you want to use the graves trick and leave, I’m fine. If you want to stay and talk to Amber, I’m fine. As long as we don’t reveal too much about the Netherworld, I am just fine indulging in those people’s games. You decide. She’s your sister.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Adam said. 

“Maybe it would be good to talk to her,” Barbara said. She put down the rest of the crystals and sat on the bed. “It’s not like John or Doris are coming. Amber never did anything to you.” 

Adam rolled over to face away from Barbara. “Yeah, but she let stuff happen. She was so oblivious because if she called it out, she wouldn’t be the ‘family favorite’ anymore.” 

Barbara sighed. “You can’t blame her for that. Hon, you need to give her a chance. She’s your sister.” 

“Barbara Cara Maitland, you know that family doesn’t mean a damn thing when you’re an Adam in a family of Johns and Dorises and Ambers,” Adam said, spitting out Amber’s name like a curse. 

Barbara pulled Adam’s arm and rolled him back over to face her. “Adam, come on-”

“Yeah, you should know that family doesn't mean a damn thing, look at what Jane did!” Adam said. 

Barbara dropped his arm. 

“No,” she said, soft, but firm, her hands starting to shake. “No, no, no. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to shoehorn Jane in because you feel insecure. You are talking to Amber on Thursday and that’s final. You are getting past this drama you have with her because it is unfair and you are starting to project your insecurities on me, mister, and I won’t have that. We are a couple dammit, and we are supposed to build each other up, not tear us down!” 

Adam bolted upright. “No!” He yelled as he pushed a pillow off the bed with his mind, then two, then three. After discovering his new, destructive, power, Adam found it a twisted sort of fun to use it. 

Barbara sprang up from the bed and ran across the room. “I’m going downstairs to tell Delia we’re staying right now.” She marched down the stairs, leaving Adam to cause pillows to fly around the room. 

“It’s official,” Barbara said, meeting Delia in the kitchen. “We’re staying the night on Thursday.” 

Delia looked up from stacking the dishes in the dishwasher. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She said. “I’m glad you got Adam to agree.” 

“He’s doing it whether he likes it or not,” Barbara said, wincing as she heard something fall and crack in the attic. “He needs to face all the things he left behind - all this unresolved trauma, particularly between him and his father and sister.” 

“Oh, dear,” Delia said. “Do you think Amber’s visit might fix it?” 

“I don’t know. He never talked about it with me. It was something he didn’t like bringing up, so I rarely did. When I did bring it up, I immediately regretted it. I’ve never seen him so angry.” 

“I can see that. I only briefly mentioned Amber a few nights ago, and he went berserk.” 

“Adam has such an animosity towards her, and I just wonder why. I guess I’ll see on Thursday.”

“I wonder if she teased him? Or bullied him?” 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Barbara said. “I went to school with her briefly and she seemed very sweet. I can’t see her as a bully.” 

“Well, I’m curious,” Delia said. 

Another crash in the attic silenced the kitchen. 

“He’s festering with all that anger in the attic?” Delia asked. 

“Yeah,” Barbara said with a shrug. “I hope that wasn’t one of the priceless vases.” 

Dinners at the Deetz household were never normal, but this one was certainly one for the record books. No one seemed to eat; Adam and Barbara because they couldn’t, Charles and Lydia because they were quite frankly disgusted, and Delia because even she couldn’t bring herself to try the vegan disaster she had made. 

Delia poked around the chickpea slop on her plate. “So, Adam, I was wondering about your sister. What’s she like?” Barbara tried to suppress her gasp at the question. 

This is going to end in disaster. 

A flash of annoyance was visible on Adam’s face but he quickly controlled it. “Well,” he said, tapping his knife on the table. “She lives in L.A. She’s a video producer for online content. My parents pay for her apartment. She’s married. My parents paid for her 'orchard' wedding. My parents paid for her college tuition. My parents bought her a four thousand dollar purebred Yorkie. My parents got-”

“I didn’t really mean things like that, Adam,” Delia cut in. “I mean like personality, looks, stuff like that.” 

“Oh,” Adam said coolly. “She looks like a rip off Zooey Deschanel. Her glasses are too big for her face. She’s too naive for her own good. Her husband is way better looking than her. Toads have more personality than her. She's so far up my parents' asses she hasn't seen the light of day in years.” Adam spit out his sentences like darts aiming at a dartboard adorned with his sister's face. 

Lydia almost choked on her pop. "Fuck, Adam. A few more and you've got a diss track." 

"She deserves one," Adam said under his breath. 

"Adam, hon," Barbara said. "Relax." 

She knew she had to be patient with him, just as he was patient with her and her emotional struggles. Barbara could only hope that this investigation wouldn't be such a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: if you have fic recs for me, please share!!!
> 
> <3


	20. I'm Not Gonna Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in the Maitland-Deetz household get even tenser as investigation day grows closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch 20 is here!!!! This chapter is kinda short, and so will be the next one. Once we get to the three partners is when they get long. ;) 
> 
> So to all those out here that got shook by "angry" Adam......idek what to tell y'all. Just read this chapter. 
> 
> Tysm for almost 150 kudos!!!!! I love you guys so much and that means a lot to me (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Also: if any of y'all are looking for a new show to get addicted to, try Schitt's Creek! I just started watching and I am fucking hooked :O seriously it's awesome and the og Delia, Catherine O'Hara, is in it! 100/10 
> 
> The next update is hopefully tomorrow and then part 1 of the three parter will be like Friday 
> 
> AJ

Barbara had to be honest: Adam was a total pain to be around these past few days. It felt like they were living with a poltergeist - doors slamming on their own, lights going out or coming down in showers of glass. The first thing you noticed about Adam when he entered a room wasn’t him but the slight discoloration around him. When you looked through the air around him, things seemed black and white. 𝘏𝘦 seemed black and white. While he was still the Adam she knew, there was something off about him and the way he talked or moved. His anger had unlocked something in him that Barbara wasn’t too keen to discover. 

She hid out in the attic most of the days. Things were too busy downstairs, full of noise and bustle. The Deetzes were preparing for Thursday - booking a hotel in the town over, arranging accommodations for Amber and her friends, cleaning the house so it looked like something out of “New Age Weekly.” 

Besides, the view was nicer from up here. 

Barbara stared out the cracked open window, looking at the grassy green hills that surrounded the house. There were neighboring homes not too far from the house, and Barbara recognized who lived in each house in an instant. The one with the wraparound porch was Kelsey’s, a distant friend of hers who ditched her job to become a “novelist,” but everyone knew she just hung around the overcrowded local bars waiting for susceptible men to walk out, making her money that way. The baby blue house across the street from Kelsey was Dan’s. He was all the Fab Five guys rolled into one, and according to Delia, his flower shop carried “absolutely divine petunias.” 

The house that caught Barbara’s interest the most was the one that sat just a few feet from the base of the hill. It was simple enough - plain green siding, medium sized porch, a nice wooden fence. In the backyard was a pool and swing that were covered up for the winter. A young girl played in the backyard, chasing a dog around the grass. Even without the girl outside, Barbara would’ve known that house anywhere. 

“Skye!” A voice from inside the house faintly said, and the girl scooped up the dog and went back in. 

Barbara sighed. 

That could’ve been her. She could’ve been calling her daughter in for dinner, cooking up a steaming hot meal while Adam set the table. She could’ve kissed Skye - no, Cheryl - on the forehead as she walked in and sat down. She could’ve had everything that Jane got to have. That bitch Jane who managed the perfect crime that Barbara could never prove. 

Barbara clenched her fists and bit her lip so hard she thought she would draw blood if she could. Life and death weren’t fair and that made her angry. Not angry in the way where she wanted to break vases and throw pillows or scream at her spouse like she was five. 

Angry in the way where she wanted to choke the life out of someone. 

Barbara gasped as she saw her reflection in the darkening window. That wasn’t her thinking that, was it? She would never think of hurting Jane, despite what Jane might have done. She was family. Dark things were happening because of this investigation and it hadn’t even started yet. 

Barbara took a deep breath, clearing her mind of that horrifying thought. As she continued to regulate her breathing, she heard the door open, and a minute later, Adam stepped through.

“You okay, Babs?” He asked, coming over to her. Adam sat next to her by the window and as he put his hand over hers, it was like someone had thrown a black and white filter over her hand. 

She held their hands up. “Adam, hon,” she said, “you’re turning gray.” 

Adam gulped, looking at them. “I know,” he said. “I don’t know why.” 

She looked at him and saw a pained expression on his face. “There’s this heavy, dull throb in my chest. Everything hurts. The only time I feel better is when I use my….talents.” Adam ripped the covers off the bed with a glance, throwing them to the floor. 

“Something’s very wrong. I’m going to check the Handbook,” Barbara said, and weaved through stacks of stuff to get to the book on the other side of the room. It had been moved from where she thought it was earlier, but it was still across the room. 

“No,” Adam said, and he froze Barbara dead in her tracks, still mid step. “I, I’m scared.” 

Barbara strained against Adam’s mental will, trying to turn her head to face him. After a moment of struggle, Adam let her go and she collapsed to the floor. “Adam,” she said, lifting herself off the ground but still too weak to get back up on her feet. 

“I’m scared I’m going to hurt someone,” Adam said, small and vulnerable. Barbara had never seen him this scary. After days of him being a total asshole, to see the meek side of him was downright terrifying, like a little girl holding her Victorian era doll in the darkened hallway of a gothic home. 

He paused for a long time, simply staring at Barbara, deep in thought. Adam opened his mouth to speak. “But I have to,” he finally said, his voice still quivering. He held his hand out and the Handbook came flying into it. Barbara lunged up to grab it, but Adam forced her down, pinning her against the attic floor. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise, Babs. But if you get in my way of feeling better, I can’t say I’ll keep that,” Adam said, chilling Barbara to the bone. He stepped over her like she was a bug on the floor and went downstairs with the Handbook as if nothing had happened. 

Barbara twitched against the floor, straining to get up. If Adam hadn’t forced her here, she’d be paralyzed by the shock alone. Barbara could only pray that one of the Deetzes had the sense to come upstairs and try to free her. 

Only one thought swirled through her foggy mind. 

That can’t be Adam.

That can’t be Adam. 

That can’t be Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (⊙︿⊙✿)


	21. Revenge Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last look at the Maitland-Deetz household before the investigation begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know this chapter is two days late but it's defs worth it. I think it explains everything nicely and sets up our three part finale :) 
> 
> Thank you guys for all your feedback!!! I love reading your comments ★~(◡△◕✿)
> 
> Next chapter should be Sunday <3 
> 
> AJ

“No, that’s Adam,” Lydia said as she struggled pulling Barbara up from the ground. “I remember a passage I read in the Handbook about circumstances like this, and Barbara, this is unsettling as hell, but that’s Adam.” 

“It, it can’t be!” Barbara said. She got up shakily, standing upright for the first time in what felt like hours. Time was hard to keep track of - all she remembered was fitfully falling asleep after being forced onto the floor by Adam and then waking up to Lydia shaking her. The room was darkening, but not dark, which led her to believe a whole day had passed. She was on the floor for twenty-four hours before someone noticed she was absent. 

Lydia paced around the room. “They’re called ‘revenge spirits,’” she said. “The creation of a revenge spirit is triggered by the mention of something in the deceased's past life that they feel wronged by.” 

“Amber,” Barbara said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, still shaking from shock, “and his whole family.” 

“The deceased gets increasingly angry about this injustice,” Lydia continued and then paused. “Then there was all this bullshit in the Handbook about energy fields and stuff.” 

“What?”

Lydia sighed. “Okay, so remember how you and Adam were exhausted after choreographing the dinner party? You were using telekinesis and possession by connecting to the energy field.”

“Yeah,” Barbara said. 

“Well, most deceased like you would be drained from 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘣. The anger that Adam is possessing is making his connections to the energy field much stronger. That’s why he’s able to freeze you and throw shit around the room.” 

“Oh, that’s why Bee-, I mean, you-know-who wanted us to get angry,” Barbara said, almost slipping up. The last thing that this situation needed was a mention to 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 

“Extreme emotion helps strengthen the ties to the energy field so you can manipulate energy, but Adam is so angry that his power is overloading him.”

“It’s doing what?” 

Lydia stopped pacing and sat down next to Barbara. She grabbed Barbara’s hands gently. “ Because Adam is so angry, he has almost unbreakable bonds to the energy field. Think of it like trying to shove your wrist into a kid’s bracelet. Your hand is too big for that tiny vessel. The amount of energy being channeled through him to use is unbearable. It’s physically causing him pain.” 

A strangled gasp escaped Barbara’s mouth and she held Lydia’s hand tighter. “He’s hurting,” she said quietly, “like a wounded animal.” 

“Yeah, but it’s even worse than that,” Lydia said, looking away from Barbara. “He’s turning gray because the energy is ripping him apart. He’s dying.” 

Barbara tightened her grip on Lydia’s hand yet again, whispering to herself, “This can’t be happening.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and Lydia wiped them away with her sleeve. 

“It can be reversed, though,” Lydia said. 

“Thank God,” Barbara let out, breathing a sigh of relief. “How?” 

Lydia looked away again and after a long pause she said, “A revenge spirit is destroyed when the deceased finally enacts their revenge.” 

A heavy silence filled the darkening room. Both Lydia and Barbara looked away from each other. Lydia tapped her feet on the wooden floor and Barbara drummed her fingers along the edge of the bed. Their nervous tics were on full display. 

He’s going to hurt Amber. 

He’s going to kill Amber. 

How could someone do that to their family? 

I get that it’s self defense; he’d rather live than die obviously, but it’s still horrible. 

Maybe I can talk him into doing something less. 

Play “Why Are You Hitting Yourself?” 

Or Dumbsistersayswhat? 

I can’t let him die or let Amber die. 

But the thought that Barbara was most afraid of emerged into her consciousness: 

If I got that angry, would I do that to Jane? 

She soothed herself by thinking, 

Well, it’s not like I’ll ever have to see her anyway. 

The silence consumed the room until Lydia said, “I’m sorry.” She laid her head on Barbara’s shoulder as the ghost put her arm around Lydia. 

Barbara finally spoke. “Lydia, promise me, if I ever get like that, become a revenge spirit,” Barbara said, taking Lydia’s hands and looking her dead in the eye, “exorcise me. Please.” 

Lydia gasped. “Barbara, I don’t think, no-”

“I couldn’t exist if I hurt someone like that, Lydia. That’s unforgivable.” 

For the first time in a long time, Lydia felt lonely in her own house. After discovering Barbara upstairs and talking with her, Lydia went back to her room. She had nothing left to do - her overnight bag was packed, and her homework was done. Normally, this was when she would go and chat with Barbara and Adam. But Adam was sulking in the basement, and when Lydia stepped a foot on the top stair, a box lid came flying towards her. Barbara was in the attic, crying and plotting. She had vowed that she would come up with a way to convince Adam to merely embarrass Amber or slap her, not potentially kill her.

Charles and Delia were busy packing, and shoving every sex toy they had into their suitcases. It may be only one night in Ashford’s premiere motel, the Ashford Motel, but they were going to take full advantage of it. Lydia could hear them talking from across the hall. Apparently, Delia was annoyed that they optioned to interview Charles instead of her. According to her, “If they’re going to interview that bitch that lives at the bottom of the hill, they should interview me.” Typical Delia. 

To top all this bullshit off, Lydia couldn’t even talk to Stella - Wednesday nights were hockey practice nights. 

She was alone. Utterly alone. 

Her “secret” caused a horrible feeling in her gut. Every time she was around her father, or Barbara and Adam, she felt as if she was lying. Lydia was a chameleon - changing colors every time she was around them, from shades of pink to black and white. 

Black and white. 

Beej. 

He was the only person she felt would understand her right now. It was a damn given that he felt utterly alone at some point in his life. They could be alone together - a funky lil lesbian and her clingy pan best friend. They would be a dynamic duo again, scaring people and ripping up the conventional family ways that both the Deetzes and the Maitlands had settled too comfortably in. 

A thought popped into Lydia’s head. 

A dangerous thought. 

“I should summon Beej tomorrow night,” she whispered even though she was all by herself in her bedroom with the door closed. It felt so rebellious to say, and taboo in their demon-free home. 

“It would be fun!” She continued whispering to herself. “We could fuck with the investigators, maybe get the Maitlands to loosen up. It’d make one good YouTube video.” A smile crept onto her face, and she couldn’t be bothered to replace it with a frown. This was the most excited she’d been in a month.

With no second thoughts or regrets, it was settled. Tomorrow night at twelve, she’d sneak out of the Butterfield’s, where she was staying, and run up the hill to the house. She’d use her key to get in, and when she got past the investigators and to the attic, she’d summon him. 

Would Delia and Charles be mad? Sure. She didn’t care. 

It was about damn time for Lydia to wreck their normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (◕△◕✿)


	22. I'm Sorry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first part of the three part season finale. This first part focuses on Adam. Ths next will be on Barbara, and then Lydia. 
> 
> I'm excited to show this chapter off!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> Also: I've been reading a lot of new GREAT fics so I might do another round of fic recs!! 
> 
> The next chapter should be Thursday ;)
> 
> AJ <3

【４：３０】

The door slammed shut as the Deetzes left for the evening. They headed to drop Lydia off down the hill at the Butterfields’ and then took the drive to Ashford, leaving the home in wait for Amber. 

Adam would’ve gone upstairs if it weren’t for the pain. It was everywhere and anywhere - it was in the turn of his head, the stretch of his arm, the glance of his eyes. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever felt, all consuming and like a fire burning in his veins. He was afraid it would never go away. 

That was a lie. 

He was afraid that it 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 go away. 

He was afraid that it would go away and so would Amber. 

He would hurt her - or worse, 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 her, and suddenly he would be….okay. 

See, he didn’t 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 Amber. Severely dislike, yes, but hate? Never. He resented the way she was always their parents’ favorite and never called John or Doris out on their blatant abuse, but he wouldn’t hurt her. He was stuck in an unpleasant limbo where he had to judge between selflessness or self preservation. Would he rather save Amber by dying from the pain or get “revenge” on her and rid himself of it. 

He didn’t know. 

Adam collapsed on the basement floor, looking up at the ceiling. It looked familiar, like he remembered the ceiling from this exact spot. He painfully turned his head to the side ever so slowly to get more comfortable and realized why. 

It was easy to figure out after noticing the slight discoloration on the concrete. 

This was where they fell to their deaths. 

Adam closed his eyes and tried to block out the physical and mental pain. 

【１０：００】

The sound of shoes on the creaky hardwood floors woke Adam back up to his pain. He could faintly hear voices upstairs, and then the positively infectious laugh of Amber Maitland-Ilkley. 

“Ryan, fuck, you crack me up!” He heard Amber say. It had been at least five years since he had heard her, and she almost sounded foreign. Gone was the giggly, quiet, “good girl” that he knew. This Amber sounded grown and happy, more likely to have fun and break a damn rule. It almost made him smile.

The footsteps continued to move around upstairs, and Adam struggled to get on his feet. As he did, he heard the door to the basement jiggle open. He scrambled to the corner of the room, sitting on his old crafting chair. 

“Damn, Amber, this place is a mess,” a man said as he emerged from the stairs. He was pretty short, shorter than Amber, and he wore a camera strapped to his chest. 

“Yeah, my brother and his wife used this place as a crafting area,” Amber said, picking up one of Barbara’s jugs. “I guess Mr. and Mrs. Deetz still have to get around to cleaning it.” 

Adam thought she looked so old. She must’ve had contacts now; her tortoise shell glasses were gone. She grew out her bangs and her creamy brown hair was set in loose curls. Where Adam always thought that their mother was prepping Amber to look like a miniature version of a New England housewife, Amber blossomed into her own style that Adam could only describe as L.A. chic. She was so new, different from the brownnoser he knew her to be. 

Second chances? 

“Well, I think it gives it a homey look,” another man said, appearing from behind one of Barbara’s pottery shelves. “It really completes the serial killer look this place has. Like that!” The tall, lanky man pointed to the empty center of the room where Adam was laying only minutes prior. 

Amber walked over there and gently touched the bloodstains ingrained into the floor. “This is where they fell,” she said quietly. The small man quickly pointed the camera to her. “The floor, just, um, gave out and they fell. Barbara, she died from a head bleed. My brother broke his neck. That blood is probably his.” Amber choked on her words and kept her fingers pressed on the floor. 

“Do you want to reach out?” The short man said. He held up a small black contraption. Amber nodded, and the man flipped a switch. 

An ungodly sound was emitted from the small box. It sounded like T.V. static but was so much louder. “Stop!” Adam screamed. The group jumped back in surprise. 

“We didn’t even get to say our names yet and it’s already interrupting us!” The tall one said. 

The small one laughed and said, “Hi, my name’s Ryan, that’s Shane, and this is Amber. If that’s you, Adam, you should already know her. Anyway, you can use this spirit box to talk to us and we will respond. First question: who are you?” 

“Turn this off!” Adam yelled as he put his hands over his ears. The pain was horrible and this screeching sound only made it worse. 

“Did it say ‘turn off?’” The tall one, Shane, said. 

“I think so,” Amber responded. “Adam, is that you?” Her tone was desperate and scared, and even in the low light, Adam could tell she was shaking. 

“Yeah!” Adam shouted. He didn’t know whether she would hear him over the noise. 

“I heard a yeah!” She said, breathing hard. “That’s him.” Her eyes grew wide, and she bolted up the stairs. 

“Amber, wait!” Shane yelled, and both of the guys followed her, taking that demon box with them. 

The noise subdued and Adam could finally hear himself think. 

She ran away. 

She ditched him; left him alone like she’s always done. 

Yet again, left alone because she can’t face her brother. 

All the anger that he thought was gone bubbled back up and he mustered up the courage to storm the basement stairs. The noise echoed through the house, and he could hear mummering about it in the room over. The door slammed behind him, and he could’ve swore he saw it fly off the hinges and down the steps.

She wasn’t going to run away now.

【１２：１５】

Amber sat alone in the master bedroom. The men - Shane and Ryan - had left her to talk to Adam so they could interview someone downstairs. They said it was time for her “individual investigation.” 

She was on the edge of the bed, resting her head on the footboard and trying to ignore the ropes and handcuffs she saw clipped to the other side. Her face was weary and exhausted, eyes puffy and red. 

Adam watched her from the master bathroom’s doorway. He was perched there deep in thought, plotting on how to enact his revenge on her. Strangulation would be easiest, or hurtling objects at her through the air. How he would do it wasn’t the problem. It was just all in the matter of when. 

Before Adam could ever move, Amber began to speak. 

“Adam, are you in here with me?” She said, her voice shaking. 

Adam pushed one of Delia’s crystals off the dresser nearest to him. Amber’s eyes widened in shock. 

“If, if that was really you,” she said, now more afraid, “push another one.” 

Adam pushed another crystal off, this time with more force. As it hit the floor, Amber gasped and pulled her legs in from off the bed. 

“Ok, one last test,” she said, pausing a minute to think. “Who hosted the first high school party I ever went to?” 

Adam carefully walked across the room and leaned into his sister’s face, to the point where he was sure she must’ve felt the loose strands of her hair move. “Alan Feldstein,” he whispered into her face with a creepily large smile, in case she happened to see him, too. 

Amber propelled herself backwards onto the middle of the bed, screaming. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod,” she kept repeating, clutching her knees to her chest like a bug. “That’s really you, Adam. I heard you. I saw you.” Amber slowly sat up and then took a deep breath. 

A vase of Delia’s was already in the air, poised for Amber’s head, but what she said next caused Adam to drop it. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, staring straight at where Adam was standing, even though she couldn't see him anymore. As the vase hit the floor, she flinched, but continued like a woman on a mission, stoic even though she was beginning to cry. “That’s what I came here to say. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for letting Mom and Dad treat you like shit. I’m sorry for treating you like shit. I’m sorry for sucking up to them and being perfect and turning a blind eye to how they treated you.”

Adam’s jaw dropped. Hearing what Amber had said - words that he only dreamed of hearing her say - had almost...relieved his pain? He felt lighter, like his chest didn’t ache as much. The room started to feel hot, and Adam unbuttoned his shirt a little bit. Things felt foggy and was he crazy to say he heard screaming from downstairs? 

“And God, Adam, I’m sorry about what I believed,” Amber said, tears plummeting down her cheeks. “Dad was so hateful and ignorant. Who you are is valid! Who you love is valid! You aren’t a cheater and you didn’t go to hell, obviously. You’re still you, whether you married Barbara or Dillin or anyone else you dated. I know this isn’t my fault, but I am so sorry about the wedding fiasco. Dad was such a dick. I can’t believe I listened to 𝘩𝘪𝘮 instead of you.” 

He fell to the floor. 

The weight of the pain in his feet disappeared and he fell to the floor, along with three crystals off the dresser. 

Pink. 

Purple. 

Blue. 

Adam traced a message on the dusty T.V: 

𝘐 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥.

Amber put her hands over her mouth as she watched the crystals go down and nodded. When she saw the words appear, her sobs got louder. She wiped tears off her cheeks and spoke again. “Adam, I came here to apologize. I never got to do that in person, while I could really see you, and I meant to! I meant to come home that week, but I had a video shoot, and by the time I got home, I was just in time for the funeral.” She choked on her tears and words. 

The pain kept rippling away. Everything Adam had read in the Handbook was wrong - he was a revenge spirit, but revenge wasn’t his cure.

It was forgiveness. 

“There’s one more thing, Adam,” Amber said, turning her face away from where she thought Adam was standing. “I’m sorry you died.” 

Adam’s shock and awe was changed to confusion. Out of everything Amber had apologized, his death was one she didn't need to say. 

“It was an accident, I promise! Dad didn’t mean for you and Barbara to die when he removed the two by fours from under the living room floor! He only wanted the floors to be creaky so you would sell the house and then he’d buy it and, oh God-” Amber buried her face in the pillows. 

He remembered the floors being creakier than usual. 

He meant to go to the basement to check it out, but never got the chance to. 

And John always mentioned how he wanted to buy the house. 

"I tried to talk them out of it, but he wouldn't budge, he was convinced you'd sell it before something bad happened, but you didn't! And you died, and Barabra died, and he didn't even cry!" Amber sobbed into the pillow. "I should've come home sooner." 

Adam got up to comfort her amidst his own mental anguish, but he was stopped by the commotion in the hallway. He opened the door and stared out into the hallway. 

A horrifying sight was what met Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (⊙﹏⊙✿)


	23. Unforgivable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two down! Only one more part to go, and then we will be on hiatus for about 2 weeks/1 week and a half :( 
> 
> This chapter is meant to mentally destroy you (⊙﹏⊙✿) 
> 
> Also: a new round of fic recs will be released with the final chapter! If you have any recs for me, leave them in the comments!!!
> 
> I also went through the tags and fixed them up lol 
> 
> The final chapter will be on Sunday ;) 
> 
> AJ

【４：３０】

Barbara watched the Deetzes leave for the evening. She stared out the attic window as the car rolled down the hill and parked in the Butterfields’ driveway. Lydia popped out, holding her overnight bag, and gave her farewells to Charles and Delia. 

Jane came out of the house to help Lydia. She looked like the picture perfect housewife - in a blouse and mom jeans, box dye blonde hair tied back in a ponytail to look “relatable.” Barbara noticed that she hardly wore scrubs anymore. Jane must’ve quit her job as a nurse at Union and started doing real estate full time, Barbara supposed. She remembered hearing through the grapevine that Jane had been planning that for a while. 

Grabbing Lydia’s bags, a genuine smile graced Jane’s face. This was a woman who was happy where she was in life. She was raising two beautiful daughters and didn’t have the stress of working long hours at the severely understaffed hospital. She had a husband, Jason, who loved her and supported her. 

Barbara hated to say it, but she was jealous. 

Yeah, Barbara did have a loving husband when he wasn’t actively trying to kill everyone in the house, but she was jealous of everything else Jane had - Skye, a normal life, the ability to leave her home, Skye, and Skye, and Skye, and Skye. 

All Barbara wanted was for Skye to say her name, acknowledge that she knew who her real mother was. 

Staring down at the ever-gracious Jane, Barbara felt the urge to clench her jaw. Stabilizing herself as she leaned closer to see more, Barbara grabbed the window lock. Her eye twitched as she watched Skye run out to give her mother a hug. 

That should be me. 

I should be out there holding my daughter. 

I should be out there living my life. 

I should be out there getting everything I deserve. 

It was only after she snapped the lock on the window did she realize something was horribly wrong. 

What happened to Adam was starting to happen to her. 

Barbara’s heart began to race and she tore herself away from the window and onto the bed. She breathed deeply, trying not to focus on the fact that she was turning into something monstrous. 

“Not yet,” Barbara reminded herself. “You still have time to change this while you’re self aware. You haven’t fallen into this trap yet.” 

The fact that it took her a few moments to notice what she did to the window terrified Barbara. If she had a lapse of judgement over something as small as snapping a lock, would hurting someone not register to her until she finished the act? Did she have the capability to kill? 

Of course she did. Everyone could potentially kill. 

The question was if she 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 kill. 

【９：３０】

Where did the time go? It felt like it was only twenty minutes between the lock incident and now, hearing the front door open. She didn’t know time would fly so fast as she sat on the floor, staring in horror at her hands. 

Barbara got up onto her feet and dusted her dress off. She could hear voices from downstairs; it sounded like two men and a woman. There was laughing and a lot of cursing coming from there, and Barbara decided to do an investigation of her own. She headed for the stairs to the attic and carefully made her way down. 

She was met with pure blackness. 

Not a single light in the whole house was on. It reminded her of an unpleasant time from when she lived here by herself. A horrible storm hit the town and the power was out for days. At night the house turned into a trove of shadows, and the fifteen candles she lit did nothing to rid Barbara of the feeling that she was trapped in a coffin, suffocating on the pitch blackness. She had nightmares about being buried alive for weeks, kicking and screaming in her coffin as it was being lowered by the townspeople of Winter River. She screamed that she wasn’t dead and needed to be let out, but no one listened. The last thing she remembered was Jane saying “Rest in Peace,” as Barbara felt the weight of the dirt tumble onto the thin and fragile coffin’s wood. 

Barbara was forced to relive this as she walked down the hallway. She held her breath as she kept her arms out, trying to find the banister that would clue her to where the staircase started. Her hand hit the wooden ball on the banister and Barbara yelped. Pulling her hand in, she held it tenderly while trying to get her footing on the first step. The talking and laughter from below was getting louder and louder until the beam of a flashlight illuminated her on the staircase. Barbara froze in her spot, staring at the people shining the light. 

They seemed young enough. Barbara recognized Amber quickly, even though she changed quite a bit since her wedding: contacts, no bangs, and….a few extra pounds. Barbara wondered if Amber and Andrew were expecting

A tall man stood behind Amber. He was lanky and pretty thin, and had a face that reminded Barbara of a rat’s. The last person - the one shining the flashlight - was the shortest. He wore thick black glasses over wide eyes. Barbara bit her lip, worried that he saw her. 

The group stared directly at Barbara on the top of the steps. Barbara stared back at them, quite literally a deer in the headlights. After a second, they turned their attention and their light elsewhere, continuing on through the house.

“I coulda swore I saw something there,” the short guy said. 

The tall one laughed. “You’re a fucking dumbass, Ryan,” he said. “That was the banister.” The conversation quieted as they passed into the den. 

These people looked like amateurs. They reminded Barbara of those kids from her high school days, who’d crawl into abandoned buildings just to “explore.” They were ghost hunters as much as Barbara was alive. 

She continued down the stairs to look for Adam. She believed he was in the basement, so she made her way to the door to go down there. As Barbara rounded the corner, she saw the door was wide open and Amber and her friends walking down the steps. 

“Shit,” Barbara said softly. “I’m not going to go down there now.” She retreated carefully back through the den and up the stairs. It was far too dangerous, (and scary), for her to attempt the attic stairs in the dark, so Barbara camped out in Lydia’s bedroom. She plopped down on the downy comforter and curled up. 

This would be a perfect time to take a stress nap; forget about all the bad things happening - Adam and this whole investigation and her own anger issues. She felt helpless to it all. Barbara had wanted to make sure Adam didn’t do something he would regret and hurt or kill Amber. But, after seeing that she was suffering from symptoms similar to his, she felt inadequate to prevent Adam from hurting Amber. If she couldn’t control herself, how could she control him?

Being scared of yourself was so tiring. 

【１２：００】

Barbara awoke to a new voice in the house. She rustled up from underneath the weighted blanket on Lydia’s bed and opened the door. Walking briskly down the hallway, she tried to register whose voice it was. The shrill, high pitched sound was ringing a bell, but she couldn’t place her finger on it. 

When she reached the stairs and saw the voice’s owner walk past, she knew immediately who it was. 

“Oh, yeah, I knew Barbara,” Jane Butterfield said, walking alongside the two men from before. “She was my cousin and she was the sweetest thing!” 

The room began to get hot, at least to Barbara. Her skin felt like it was boiling and turning a bright red, but Barbara took deep breaths. 

She didn’t do anything to you. 

Yet. 

The small doubting voice in Barbara’s head got louder and louder, a cynical side that kept reminding her of what Jane had done. Barbara wished she could turn it off like a light switch, because it was igniting the anger in her. The last thing anyone needed was for Barbara to outburst. 

Barbara hopped down the stairs and followed Jane and the guys into the den. They sat on the couch opposite Jane, and had a tripod set up. It appeared to be some sort of interview. 

“Tell us a little bit about yourself, Jane,” the short one said. 

Jane smiled wide. “Well, first, thank you boys for having me here! I’ve always wanted to be up there on the Internet, even if I gotta do an interview at midnight.” Jane laughed and the men picked it up awkwardly. “Anyway, my name is Jane Butterfield, licensed real estate agent. I’m married to my wonderful husband, Jason, and have two daughters - Stella and Skye.” 

“How do you know Barbara?” The tall one asked. 

“She was my cousin,” Jane replied. “We were always very close.” 

Bullshit. 

It took getting married to a Maitland to get your attention. 

“Oh wow,” the shorter one said. “You must’ve taken her death very hard.” 

Jane shook her head. “I did, I really did. She was such a light in Winter River; the whole community loved her.” 

Lies. 

All of you criticized me for any little decision I made - marrying Adam, opening the bookstore, mourning my damn mother. 

It was becoming harder and harder for Barbara to control herself. It made her angry to hear Jane blatantly lying and sugarcoating the struggles that Barbara went through. She acted as though the two got along like two peas in a pod, beloved by all. Barbara held onto the doorframe so hard, she believed she saw nail marks in the wood.

“Any personal stories to share?” 

Barbara felt her muscles tense up and her other hand, hanging down by her thigh, was clawing into her skin. 

“Of course!” Jane said, leaning back into Delia’s stiff, ridged couches. “Barbara was the most selfless woman I knew. She would give anything up for her family. See, when Barbara and I were pregnant around the same time, about nine years ago. Our babies were born on the exact same day to be precise! It took me three years to have my first daughter. I had been trying to get pregnant again for another five. When I finally did, my baby died after thirty minutes. But Barbara on her first attempt, delivered a healthy baby girl while dealing with stage two breast cancer. Oh, Barbara felt so bad!” 

“No, I didn’t,” Barbara whispered through gritted teeth. Jane was finally confessing had truly happened, but in a way that took all the blame off of her. 

Jane continued, “Barbara felt so bad that she did the unthinkable.” 

“Don’t say it,” Barbara said. “Don’t you 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦 say it.” Her hands were at her sides, fists clenched, shoulders back. She didn’t realize it, but she was in a fighting stance. 

Jane smiled sadly. “She told me, ‘Jane, I know that you’ve been having all these struggles. It’s not fair! I don’t deserve this baby when you couldn’t have yours.’ And Barbara looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Adopt my daughter.’”

Jane didn’t even have time to take a breath before a book off the bookshelves hit her shoulder. The books kept coming and Jane shrieked. The men across from her just sat, staring on in complete and utter shock. Barbara continued to pummel her with books, eyes full of pure malice. 

“BITCH!” Barbara screamed at Jane, who was bleeding on the head with water filling her eyes. “YOU’RE A SCAMMING, LYING BITCH! I NEVER GAVE YOU MY DAUGHTER! YOU STOLE HER AND RAISED HER AS YOUR OWN!” 

The men tried to pull Jane from out of her seat, but Barbara pushed them away into the dining room. No one was getting in the way of her revenge. She marched through the den to stand directly in front of Jane. Barbara reached her hand out as Jane gasped for breath while she shook profusely. 

“This is justice for my daughter,” Barbara said, putting her hands around Jane’s neck. “She may be your Skye, but she will always, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, be my Cheryl.” Jane tried to pry the hands off her neck, but Barbara only tightened her grip. 

Barbara stared into Jane’s eyes. The blue in them was full of fear and a blood vessel popped in her right one. Her lips moved in a jerky manner, and Barbara realized what she was mouthing. 

𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘨𝘰.

Horror was the only thing Barbara felt. It was like a lightbulb had clicked in her darkened, suffocating brain, and she registered what she was doing: strangling a live human being. 

Barbara immediately dropped Jane back into the chair and ran past her, the den, the dining room, stopping only to grab the Handbook off the floor. She ran upstairs and all the way down the hallway and locked the door to Lydia’s room. 

Hurriedly flipping through the Handbook’s pages, Barbara tried to process what she just did. She was literally a minute or two off from literally killing Jane. Murdering another human being. 

“I don’t deserve to live, I don’t deserve to live,” Barbara kept repeating as her hand trembled while rooting through pages. It was hard to see in the dark as it was, never mind the tears in her eyes. She kept her back planted firmly against the wall for support. This was the most shameful she’d been in years. 

Finally she found the page she had been looking for. She got the idea from long ago, on the day that they went to the cemetery. It was categorized as a right to the deceased, and she remembered Adam read it aloud when they were talking. Barbara skimmed through the incantation and threw the book across the room and onto Lydia’s bed. 

The page opened read, “Self-Exorcisms and How To Administer.” 

Underneath, in smaller print, it read, “Done with the afterlife? Ready to cease to exist?” 

Barbara closed her eyes and held her arms, cooped up in the corner of the room. She opened her mouth, prepped to begin speaking the Latin incantation. 

What Barbara did was unforgivable. She couldn’t exist if she hurt someone like that. She was done with the afterlife. She was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (>.<)


	24. It's Showtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation (doesn't really) come to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh! The final part of season two is here! I'm very excited to show you guys this chapter, but also sad because it means this is the beginning of the two week hiatus before season three. •́ ‿ ,•̀ But, there will be a teaser chapter next Sunday like always. :)
> 
> Things I can tell you about season three:  
> • more Beej!  
> • less Maitlands, but we will cover the aftermath of season two  
> • time skip  
> • we are focusing on Charles and Delia's wedding  
> • there will be some shenanigans with some Netherworld fuckers no one likes ⊙﹏⊙ 
> 
> Also: does anyone have any Six fandom fic recs?? I just really got into it this weekend and was wondering where all the good fics are hiding lol 
> 
> Speaking of fic recs, I have my recs in the end notes ;) 
> 
> Love you guys and see y'all on Sunday!!!! 
> 
> AJ

【４：３０】

Lydia took one last look at the house before she got in the car. It was a whirlwind afternoon. She got home at three, ate a quick snack, and was almost immediately whisked away to get her things ready for the night. She’d be staying over with Stella and the Butterfield’s, and while that may not have been a problem with Charles when she suggested it, the look Delia gave her nearly killed her, along with the comment that she better be sure to “trim her nails.” 

Delia had been throwing subtle hints to Lydia’s sexuality and relationship into recent conversations, and Lydia wished that she would stop. Lydia wasn’t ready to tell Charles and the Maitlands yet, and she was afraid they’d catch on to what Delia was saying. At this point, she was forcing Lydia’s hand. 

The only thing keeping the teen going was the knowledge that soon enough Delia would be more preoccupied with another problem child to care more about than Lydia’s sexuality. 

But that conversation was long done. Now, Lydia jumped in the backseat with her overnight bag and backpack. Charles and Delia packed up the trunk and slammed it shut. They both got in the front, and away they went. 

The investigation had begun. 

【５：００】

Settling into the Butterfield’s house was nice. 

It was normal. Now, normal was not what Lydia usually liked. She was strange and unusual, and for the most part, loved being a part of her strange and unusual four-parent family. But, there was something alluring about the humdrum suburban life that Stella had always known. 

Their home was very basic. It looked as if the Butterfields had ordered it straight out of a magazine and plopped it in their living room. The couches were a boring beige and soft. They had an entertainment center made of plain wood, the surrounding shelves filled by miscellaneous movies, mostly either rom coms or Tarantino films. The kitchen was even more normal - gray countertops and wooden table, regular old dome light fixture. 

Delia would absolutely throw up if she had walked inside. 

Stella had led Lydia upstairs to her room, carrying Lydia’s bags up the narrow stairs. The upstairs had the same feel as the floor below - white walls, watercolor flower paintings. As they walked past the rooms, Lydia peeked in each one. There was a master bedroom, painfully vanilla inside; no ropes on the headboard, no stashes of “secret pills” that Lydia knew weren’t secret. The next room appeared to be Skye’s, fantastically painted to look like the outside. Lydia made a mental note to ask Stella to take her in there to look around. A bathroom was on the other side of the hall, complete with the classic 80s shitty wallpaper and teal blue tub. 

God, were these people 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭. 

When Lydia and Stella finally reached the end of the hall, Stella opened up the door to her room. It was a quaint place, painted a baby blue and space taken up mostly by her bed. 

“I know it’s not big, but it’s what I got,” Stella said, placing Lydia’s things at the foot of her bed. “We gave Skye the big room, you know, because she’d spend more time in there than I ever would.” 

“Oh, that’s fine, I understand!” Lydia said. She sat down on the beanbag in front of Stella’s closet door. 

“I’ve been meaning to change the stuff up in this room, but I just haven’t gotten to it,” Stella said. “Like, these walls? I want them to be a sunset orange. They thought Skye was gonna be a boy, hence the blue that I have yet to change. I actually had the bigger room a long time ago. When Skye was born and we found out about her condition, my mom made me switch.” 

“I get it,” Lydia said. She kicked her feet to rest on Stella’s desk chair. “Could we go in there and see her room? I saw the art on the walls and it looks nice as hell.” 

“Sure, why not?” Stella said. She got up off her bed and helped Lydia up as well. They walked down the hall and Stella walked into the doorway. 

“Hey, Skye?” Stella said. The little girl came to the doorway, saw Lydia, and sunk back into her room. Stella sighed. She walked in the room, leaving Lydia alone in the hallway. 

Damn, I never really thought she’d be afraid of me, 

I know that Beej and I scared the crap out of her and nearly killed her, but it never crossed my mind that she’d be scared of me. 

Is that bad? 

Stella emerged out of the room. “Skye says you can come in as long as your ‘scary friend’ isn’t with you,” she said, confused. “Whatever that means.” Lydia knew exactly what that meant, and filed a note to tell Beej never to scare Skye or any of the Butterfields ever again. 

Lydia nodded, and Stella led her in. 

The room was beautiful. It was twice the size of Stella’s and not a single wall was white or a dusty blue. The ceiling was a deep, space blue and constellations were painted on it, complete with a moon and a few shooting stars. Three of the walls were painted with a nature scene, the wall with the door and then the two adjacent ones to be precise, and was the same scenery except in winter, summer, and fall. There were lush green trees on one wall, then the same trees were either covered in snow or full of orange leaves on the other walls. The final wall, the one directly across from the door, was less a wall than it was a window. It was almost all glass and let the setting sun in as its warm rays illuminated the room. 

“I feel like I’m outside,” Lydia said, gazing around the room. 

“That’s the point,” Skye said. “Up until a few months ago, I couldn’t go outside. This room was supposed to make me feel like I was out there.” Skye sat on her bed across the room, hidden behind the canopy hanging over it. 

“It really does,” Lydia said. She walked up to the long window, slowly, peering outside. Skye had the perfect view of the Deetzes’ house on the top of the hill. Lydia wondered if Skye ever stared out the window at the house. 

Lydia walked back to the center of the room, next to Stella. “Well, I think I’d better go,” she said. “Thank you for letting me check out your room, Skye. It really looks beautiful.” 

“You can come back anytime you want,” Skye said, and Lydia could tell that the little girl was blushing. 

Maybe she wasn’t so scared. 

【９：５５】

Lydia wasn’t going to lie, this evening was getting boring. It was pretty chill for the most part; they ate pizza upstairs, finished homework, flipped between cable and Netflix, and maybe, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦, shared a few pecks on the cheek through it all. Around nine thirty, Stella had gotten bored of 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘵’𝘴 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 and turned the T.V off, leaving the girls to sit in an awkward silence. 

“Hey did you see the audition notice that Miss Adler finally put up?” Lydia said, breaking the lull in the room. “That snowstorm had pushed everything back a few weeks and now it’s time for auditions next week.”

“Yeah!” Stella said. She laid her body across her bed, feet by the headboard and facing Lydia, who was sitting on the beanbag at the foot of her bed. 

“I think I’m really gonna audition this time,” Lydia said. 

“You should!” Stella said. “You would make a damn good Roxie!” 

“And you would make a great Velma,” Lydia said with a smile. “I’m just nervous.” 

Stella laughed. “Don’t be! You’re a great singer; you’re gonna blow everyone out of the water. You know that Claire’s thinking about auditioning? God, she’s gonna suck compared to you.” Stella gave Lydia a high five and then stared down at her buzzing phone. 

“Shit,” she said. 

“What is it?” Lydia asked. 

Stella groaned. “It’s Claire. Of course.” Stella swiped up on the FaceTime call. 

“Oh my God, Stella!” Claire said, sounding as loud and annoying as she was in person. “I can’t get that problem that we had for homework in Algebra today.” 

Stella looked at Lydia apologetically, mouthing “Sorry.” Lydia nodded, and then reluctantly mouthed, “It’s okay.” 

“Well,” Stella said, looking back to Claire, “we had a lot of problems. Which one?” 

“Ugh, Stella, all of them!” Claire whined. “Can you help me?” 

“Sure,” Stella said, and she pulled her textbook off of the pile next to her.

This was not okay. Lydia was looking forward to the night as a way to relax with her girlfriend and be somewhere where she felt seen, and yet, just like she was at school, she was overshadowed by Claire Brewster. But Lydia had to suck it up. It would be petty as hell for her to get mad over this. How long could Claire talk anyway? 

【１１：５５】

Two hours. Two fucking hours. That was how long Claire could talk, and she wasn’t done. After an hour of Claire spouting her bullshit nonsense about cube roots, Lydia left for the bathroom. She couldn’t take it anymore. And she knew that Claire was 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 talking because her voice carried all the way down the hall to the locked bathroom Lydia was sitting in. 

Lydia kept staring at the clock. It was about time for her to leave. It seemed like everyone in the house was settled down by now - Jason had tucked Skye in long ago, and the sound of the T.V from the master bedroom had disappeared. Jane had, surprisingly, left for the Deetzes’ about fifteen minutes ago. Lydia had heard her tell Jason that she had an interview for “the Internet,” and she would be back in a half hour. That meant the only one awake in the house was Stella, and she was too preoccupied to care about Lydia anyway. 

It was now or never. Lydia felt her pocket to make sure she had her key, got up off the bathroom counter, and carefully opened the door. She made her way down the hall and stairs quietly, and grabbed her jacket and shoes from the living room. She unlocked the door and opened it, and then locked the bottom lock, just to be sure at least the house was partially protected. 

And she was off. 

It was darker and windier than Lydia had imagined it to be. The street lamps illuminated her walk by a very little and her hair kept blowing in her face. Lydia shivered as she ran the uphill sidewalk, trying to make it to the house as fast as possible. It didn’t really matter how long she was away; she was bound to get in trouble anyway. She didn’t care if sneaking out got added to her list of offenses. 

After what felt like five minutes but was probably only three, Lydia arrived at her front door. She silently prayed that her key worked and put it in the lock. The knob turned with a satisfying pop and Lydia slowly opened the door to the pitch black house. 

Everything was dark. The whole house was dark inside, and to be honest, it freaked Lydia out. There were odd voices here and there, some sounding like dudes and one voice that sounded like Stella’s mom. She navigated carefully through the living room and found the stairs to the second floor. As she took her first step, Lydia saw a light turn on in the den, and the backside of Barbara blocking out. She almost wanted to call out to Barbara, but stopped herself. It was a given that if the ghost knew what Lydia was planning to do, she’d stop it immediately. Lydia shook her head and continued on.

As Lydia walked upstairs, she could hear new voices, now coming from her parents’ bedroom. It sounded like a woman who was crying. Peeking through a crack in the door, she saw Adam and someone who looked a lot like him. His sister, Lydia supposed. But, if it wasn’t relevant to Beej, it wasn’t important right now. She could get the tea from Adam later, if he wasn’t acting homicidal. 

She finally reached the attic stairs, looking daunting as ever. Lydia carefully ascended, mentally preparing herself for what she was supposed to do. 

“You got this,” Lydia said quietly as she opened the attic door. “You’re gonna have some fun again. You’re gonna have someone who isn’t gonna be trying to rat you out to your family. You’re gonna have someone where you’re their first priority. You’re gonna have Beej.” 

She walked to the center of the room, the only area with open space, and she took a deep breath. Lydia recalled the little poem she thought of while waiting for an hour in the bathroom. 

Then Lydia said, 

“Though I know I should be wary,  
Still I venture someplace scary;  
Ghostly hauntings I turn loose…” 

She took another deep breath, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. 

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.” 

【１２：１０】

A wind picked up in the tiny attic, blowing Lydia backwards onto the Maitlands’ bed. She opened her eyes to find Beej, in all his disgusting and crude glory, standing in the middle of the attic. 

“Beej!” Lydia squealed and jumped up and threw her arms around the very confused demon. 

“Lyds….hi,” he said. “Damn, did you summon me?” 

“Duh,” Lydia said, letting go of him. 

“Ok, because I was 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳 confused, like just a minute ago I was sweet talking this German hooker at a bar in Berlin and now I’m standing in your attic and I was like, ‘What the fuck? Do my sluts need me?’ I guess my sluts do need me, but like, you’re not my slut-” Beej stammered, hair flushing a bright, energetic green. 

“I’m your b-f-f-forever,” Lydia said, pointing a finger into his chest. “And only that.” 

“I know, I know. But where are my sluts?” Beej said, looking around. 

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Too busy with shit of their own. Barbara’s all depressed over Adam.” 

“What’s wrong with boring slut number one?” 

“He has this homicidal revenge spirit thing going on,” Lydia said. “Wants to kill his sister.” 

“Angry Adam Maitland?” Beej said, hair turning a flaming pink. “Well, mark me down as scared 𝘢𝘯𝘥 horny!” 

“Oh yeah, and there’s a ghost investigation going on. Some dudes from a video company in L.A.” 

Beej’s hair changed to bright amber, and he looked as if he just had a nose full of cocaine. Honestly, he could’ve, Lydia wouldn’t have been surprised. “Can I, Lyds?” He begged on his knees. “Can I 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦 go mess with ‘em? Scare ‘em so bad that they go home to their fancy burrito bowls and loft apartments crying like the pussies they are?” 

Lydia smiled. “Well, I thought you’d never ask.” 

She held her arm out, Beej took it, and they walked out the attic and down the stairs. “Hey, when we get down there, can ya scream so I get their attention?” Beej whispered. 

“It would be my pleasure,” Lydia said, and she cleared her throat into her elbow. 

As soon as her foot reached the bottom step, Lydia let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead. She could hear footsteps running from downstairs to the staircase, and saw the master bedroom door open as well. 

Beej turned to Lydia and grinned, and then looked to his audience. He rubbed his hands together and said the magic words.

“It’s showtime!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger lol 
> 
> Just kidding I'm not sorry ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Fic Recs! 
> 
> A fic that I literally read a half hour ago, Through My Eyes by Blind_Band_Geek, is a wip that has hella potential! It's a good read if you are more familiar with the movie. 
> 
> I read Splintered wood and broken glass, by Wackenhoernchen, right after practice and yeah, I was crying in my drama teacher's room. Super good read !! 
> 
> This list wouldn't be complete without something by Violent_Bulldog, the queen of having more than 1 good fic ;) The newest thing by them, Nothing, SHATTERED MY FUCKING SOUL, so like, yeah it's good 
> 
> Hey, Somebody's on the Roof by peggywrites is another great read!! It is a musical aftermath fic and I just adored it (｡♡‿♡｡)
> 
> Everything, everything happens for a reason by AndromedaKhelby is the Delia & Lydia content WE NEED 
> 
> Finally, All You Wanted to Know About Sandworms (But Were Afraid to Ask) by Hoodoo is an in-depth look into sandworms that FUCKING SLAPS HON. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I LOVE BIG SANDY. I FUCKING LOVE MY WORM BABIES AND I LOVE THIS FIC. (•ө•)♡
> 
> You can find all these fics under my recs in my bookmarks! (✷‿✷)


	25. Mothers That Should've Stayed Missing And Why They'll Destroy Your Afterlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with a certain shitty mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is the season three teaser, and I will say that I think it sufficiently teases what's to come ;) 
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, March 1st. I've been really busy this week, so it was honestly a miracle I posted on time. This coming week is also going to be very busy, with a very important application I have due and a lip sync battle I'm participating in lol. Hopefully my weekend will be free so I can give you guys quality content to start your week with!
> 
> Also: thank you so much for the 171 kudos and 100 comments! Hopefully with this teaser we can break those records ;) 
> 
> In the end notes, I will be addressing the biggest tea of the week: the Sophia Debacle (●__●)
> 
> Love y'all and please enjoy this shit
> 
> AJ

Crawling out of a sandworm pit on Saturn was no walk in the park, and Juno knew it. The perilous escape took about seven weeks. Now she was finally back in the Netherworld, more or less the same. The only things she was missing was her pride and her leg. 

As she looked around the dingy, dark Netherworld streets, she could feel that things were different. The place was quiet, too quiet. The brothel on sixty-sixth street was boarded up and so was the one she passed on sixty-ninth. There were huge billboards erected around the streets, towering over anyone who walked by. They were painted with ominous messages like, “Behaving today brings a better tomorrow.” All the public housing buildings were dark inside, no raging parties going on within. In fact, the only place Juno saw light at all was the huge building up ahead, the Netherworld Processing and Database Center, where the civil servants worked and the Demon Council met. 

Juno approached one of the building’s back entrances and pulled a key out of her hairdo. She put the key in and turned the lock, opening the door to find she was in the hallway right before her office. Walking down the hallway, things felt odd here too. No one walked through the passageways “delivering papers” to avoid doing work, no one stood in doorways on their vape breaks; everyone was dead set on their jobs. Juno finally arrived at her office door and opened it up. 

Whatever Juno had expected when she walked in the room, this wasn’t it. Never in her two millennia afterlife would she had thought she’d see Cassander lounging at her desk. 

“Mumsie,” Cassander said after knocking back a shot of blue drain cleaner from Juno’s desk stash. He looked totally unaffected by his mother’s sudden reappearance. “You’re back earlier than I expected.” 

Juno stared at her eldest son with disdain. “And you’ve replaced me earlier than I’ve expected. Get out of my damn chair.” 

“I’m afraid not, Mother. I was sworn in as head of the Demon Council weeks ago. You have no power over me,” Cassander smiled and swirled a dash of bleach into his glass, briefly taking his eyes off Juno to appreciate the sight of the two liquids mixing. 

“Power over you? Boy, I birthed you! Get out of my damn chair and let me have my job back,” Juno said. She saw her leg sitting perched on one of the chairs and she snatched it, popping it back in its place. At least she’d finally be able to walk like normal again. Juno’s fingertips started to ignite, and she was poised to fire upon Cassander if he said the wrong thing. 

“Uh uh uh,” Cassander said., pointing down to her fingers. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. See, Mother, I’ve been practicing an incantation that I’m sure you know well. Perdere Animam?” 

Juno gasped. “You wouldn’t,” she said. 

“Ah, but I would, and I have. Out of all the twenty demons that have ever existed, whether they were on the Council or not, only three are left. You, me, and Lawrence,” Cassander said. 

“You, you exorcised them? You exorcised them all?” Juno said. She was starting to get light headed. Maybe it was the trip getting here, or it was the shock, or the fact that she was over two thousand years old, but the air felt thin. It could have been Cassander trying to knock her out, but that wouldn’t kill her. The only way for that to happen would be what he was threatening before: exorcism. 

Cassander chuckled to himself. “And it was easy! These demons were all bloody idiots. They say never trust a demon over a thousand years, yet they forget the ones younger than that are just as clever. But as for you, my dearest Mumsie, I have an ultimatum.” 

“And that is?” 

“First option: I exorcise you right here, right now. It’s all over for you and then I don’t have to deal with a threat to my total power.” 

“Or?” 

“Or you do my dirty work.” 

Juno felt her fingertips get hot again but took a deep breath. This was infuriating- she was supposed to be the mother, holding 𝘩𝘦𝘳 power over her children. Then she was gone for seven weeks and everything had to be flipped around. 

“What is your dirty work?” She asked. 

“Well, I think you won’t mind this first task very much,” Cassander said and then took another sip of his concoction. “I want you to go to the mortal world and get rid of an enemy of mine.” 

Juno stared at her son, perplexed. Normally demons spent so much time in the Netherworld they didn’t have time to meddle in human affairs. Hell, the only time she spent on Earth before she got eaten by a sandworm, was in the 1940s and she was pregnant with a breather’s baby. 

“Who?” She finally said. 

An evil smile crept up on Cassander’s face and he replied, “Lawrence.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the Sophia Debacle. People have been covering it. A LOT of people have been covering it, including our theatre cult leader, Kat Steele. Now, personally, I think that Sophia left for a mix of more than one reason. Yes, I've read all the official articles about it, saying how she left to pursue TV because it's pilot season. And yes, I've browsed all the shady rumors as to why she could've left as well. Now, I'm not gonna name those rumors because they are very hurtful. Are they true? Possibly, but I REALLY hope not. I would like to believe that Sophia actually left to pursue TV and that's it, but the circumstances to how she left make me think otherwise....it was so out of the blue. I wish her the best in her TV career and I wish whoever picks up the role of Lydia the best as well. (Personally, I hope it's Presley!) 
> 
> Update: as of 8:33 CST Sophia posted on Instagram a farewell to the show
> 
> Anyway love y'all and see you guys next Sunday!!! (✿^‿^)


	26. Showtime, Resumed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beej is back and sexier than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to season three, y'all! We start back up with a quick catch up with the cliffhanger and then I promise, next chapter we will have a time skip. I'm thinking fall 2020...... 
> 
> Big shoutout to one of my fav ao3 writers, Nekomata58919 for the kudos :) here's some big love energy coming your way! If you haven't read their fic, Home With You, yet, CHECK! IT! OUT! You will not regret it...it has 816 kudos for a reason ;) 
> 
> Sorry for the chapter coming out late; yesterday was a shitty day. Here's to a good week! 
> 
> The next chapter should be out on Sunday ;) 
> 
> Love y'all and this *clink clink* is to a good start to the season! 
> 
> AJ

“Oh my gosh,” Adam said, hands to his mouth in horror. He stood in the middle of the hallway, staring at the attic stairwell. “It’s you.” 

Beej grinned and walked off the bottom stair, eyes locked on Adam. “Yeah, Sexy. Did ya miss me?” His hair streaked fuschia and he blew a kiss to the befuddled ghost across from him.

The footsteps on the stairs from the first level got louder, and out of the corner of his eye, Beej saw two guys hustle up the stairs. When they saw Beej, the short one went pale. “Shane, Shane, what the fuck is that?” He said, gripping onto the handrail. 

The tall one behind him was familiar to Beej, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. The mousy face, lanky limbs….

Oh shit, that's Auntie Lyra's kid.

The story of a bastard child between a demon and a breather was one Beej knew well. They were referred to as “in-betweeners” in the demon community and legally, they didn’t exist. The idea of them was never thought of when the Demon Council was formed, and thus, they were never given rights or the option to join the council. In-betweeners were said to possess unique and dangerous qualities because of their “born-deadness.” They could sense emotions but didn’t know what they were, they could manipulate the afterlife’s energy fields, and they aged at much faster rate than demons but could never die except by exorcism. Most - like this cousin of Beej’s - were raised by their mortal parents in the human world. They would probably never learn of their true lineage until they “died.” 

But it was apparent that this cousin knew who he was and more importantly, who Beej was. The man had a deer in the headlights look, eyes gleaming the familiar demon slit in the dark light. Beej could tell he was struggling to come up with an excuse for what that poor, short man had happened to find. 

“It’s your eyes playing tricks on you, Ryan,” Shane said calmly, looking Beej in the eyes. “Let’s go back downstairs.” 

Beej gave a small nod to his cousin and slipped into a more invisible look. He disappeared from sight in the hallway, making Lydia invisible just in case. 

Ryan took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess you’re right.” He took one last swoop of the hallway with his flashlight and then slowly retreating down the stairs.

“I did not miss you one bit,” Adam said, shaking, staring as Beej and Lydia came back into sight. “No, no, no.” He backed up until he could grip onto the door, his knuckles turning white.

Beej moved closer to Adam. He put his arm around Adam’s waist, pulling the ghost right up to his chest. “Well I missed you, vanilla slut. I took a three week nap and dreamed of you and the blonde the whole time.” 

“Really?” Adam said, his voice quivering, 

“Yeah you were bent over the bed and that other one was-”

A piercing scream made Beej stop and all three of them - Lydia, Beej, and Adam - turned around to the end of the hallway. The screaming was coming from Lydia’s room. 

Beej immediately let go of Adam. The three of them ran down the hall and burst through the door. There, they found Barbara in the far corner of the room, arms and legs stretched out, glowing green. Her skin was shriveling up and turning brittle, flaking off onto the floor. Her mouth was contorted into a scream, but they could hear her disembodied voice chanting in Latin. 

Adam stood frozen in the doorway. He couldn’t move. Every muscle in his body was telling him to go, go help his wife, but he didn’t know how. An intense feeling of helplessness washed over him like a tidal wave. The sight of Barbara caught in this predicament terrified him and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

Lydia was much quicker to action. She jumped over her bed to the other side of the room. Up close, things didn’t look much better. As skin flaked off of Barbara, neon light shone through like paint peeling off a light bulb. Her eyes were cold and hollow and the skin that was still left on her had lost its luster and was now a pale bluish. 

“Oh, shit,” Beej said. He pushed Adam out of the way and ran to Barbara. “She’s committing self-exorcism.” 

“What?” Lydia said, trying to be loud enough to be heard over the deafening Latin. 

“Self-exorcism. It’s suicide for the deceased; once you do it, you’re permanently gone,” Beej explained. 

Lydia looked up to Barbara’s empty eyes and then back down to her feet. “Fuck, I should’ve seen this coming. She told me that if she ever hurt someone, she wanted to be exorcised. She said she couldn’t continue to exist if she did something unforgivable like that. I don’t know who she could’ve hurt though; it could’ve been Amber or-”

Beej swatted Lydia. “Now’s not the time Lyds. Move out of the way.” 

“What?” Lydia said. She angled herself in front of Barbara, who was starting to turn more green by the second. “Hey, Beej I know I brought you back but maybe now’s not the best time to start up again with Barbara.” 

“Lydia, move,” Beej said seriously. “I’m not playing; do you want her to die?” 

“Well, no but-”

“Then 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦,” Beej said. His hair was a mix of red and blue and he pushed Lydia out of the way and onto her bed. 

Now that he could really see her, Beej got a good look at Barbara. “Barb?” He said gently. “Barb, can we talk?” 

The Latin chanting stopped for only a moment. “Yes,” Barbara said softly, mouth still in a scream. 

“Okay, Barb, you gotta stop,” Beej said. “I know you think you did something unforgivable but Barb-”

“It was bad!” Barbara screamed. “It was horrible! I almost killed her. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve to live.” Skin kept flaking and flaking off and Beej knew time was running out. 

“Come on, Barb, knock it off.” 

The chanting got louder and the room began to shake. 

His voice was getting frantic. “Barb, come on, please, Barb you gotta stop,” Beej said. “Whatever you did, you don’t deserve this. You deserve life; you deserve 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. Adam needs you, Barbara, Lydia needs you.” 

𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶, Beej thought, but he knew he couldn’t say it. It was true, too true, but it wasn’t the time or place.

“I, I don’t know how to stop this,” Barbara said, breaking the deafening chants with her quiet, quivering voice. Time was running out. Barbara was more light than ever, becoming a glowing, ethereal version of herself. Beej found it almost beautiful, you know, if she wasn’t dying. 

“Redi mecum ad animam,” Beej said, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves. “Just say it and all of this will stop, Barb. Please say it.” 

The chanting got quieter, barely, but it still remained. She was almost all light now, the only skin left being the very little on her face. 

Beej was on the verge of crying. “Dammit, Barb, you can’t leave me!” He yelled. “Everyone who’s meant something to me in my life’s left me and now you too? Don’t do it. Don’t do it!” He threw his arms around her and closed his eyes, hugging her tight while tears streamed down his face. 

He’d been abandoned by so many people, far too many times. 

His mother, that piece of shit.

His father, whoever that was.

Cressie, the girl he thought was worth 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 around for.

Argentina, the one person Beej thought would never betray him. 

And now he could add one more to the list: 

Barbara, the tragic hero with kindness as her fatal flaw, who decided that her punishment needed to exceed the crime. 

As he sobbed against Barbara’s vanishing chest, he felt another pair of arms around him, and then another. Finally, when he felt as if he couldn’t cry any longer, a final pair made their way around the group hug. 

The chanting stopped. 

The green light was gone. 

“I’m not leaving anytime soon,” Barbara said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #demonshane2020


End file.
